


The Malfoy Curse

by AzenorSage



Series: The Malfoy Defiance Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzenorSage/pseuds/AzenorSage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After several failed attempts to beget the Malfoy heir, Narcissa Malfoy resorts to desperate measures to beget a healthy child to secure her place once and for all as the wife of Lucius Malfoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cursed

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings readers! Welcome to my foray into writing Harry Potter fanfiction. I was reading one of the Harry Potter books and I found myself fascinated by the Malfoy’s. Let’s face it, the villain is always a bit fascinating and the more complicated the villain the better. Just look at how the world loves Darth Vader from the Star Wars Universe. In the Harry Potter books and movies we do not really get to know the Malfoy family because the story is told from Harry’s perspective and his perspective of them is that they are evil end of story. My fascination with the Malfoy’s was coupled with the idea of what if the Malfoy’s had been unable to produce a male Heir? What if instead of a Draco Malfoy there was a Lyra Malfoy? I hope that readers enjoy my attempt at an Alternate Universe Harry Potter Fanfic.

The Malfoy Curse

Cursed  
Somewhere in England  
1973  
  
Tears of anger and rage splashed down upon the pages of the magazine she held in her shaking hands. She stared down at the pages, watching the moving pictures of one Lucius Malfoy dancing on his wedding day with the lovely Narcissa Black. The blond haired beauty was Narcissa Malfoy now, wed to Lucius Malfoy. Looking on with a smug smile at the dancing couple was a man that she loathed with every ounce of her being. Abraxas Malfoy, the patriarch of the Malfoy family.  
  
The magazine even had a quote from Abraxas Malfoy. He had spoken of his joy in his son’s union with the lovely Narcissa and his excitement of when they would make him a grandfather. He had demurred from stating if he had a preference in gender for his first grandchild, but everyone who knew Abraxas knew that he wanted a male child to carry on the Malfoy name. Girls born of the great houses were beautiful treasures to be wed off in the name of alliance. They were not meant to lead or to rule the houses. At least men like Abraxas thought that way.  
  
She glared at the photographs of the handsome Lucius and the beautiful Narcissa and she vibrated with rage. They would make such a beautiful son together. She shook her head and laughed cruelly. “Oh, I think not.” She murmured to herself. “Another son to the house of Malfoy would only make other’s suffer more. Oh no. No sons for the House of Malfoy. The name shall end with Lucius. Yes…”  
  
She sat the magazine down carefully upon the table and then she walked swiftly to her book shelf to find just the right curse to lay down upon the newly married couple.


	2. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years into her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa is desperate to produce a healthy child.

Desperate Measures  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England.  
1980  
  
Narcissa Malfoy stared out of the window at the beauty of the surrounding landscape. Malfoy Manor boasted some of the greatest gardens in the country and she could attest to that, for she had thrown herself into making them the best in honor of her dead children.  
  
In her seven years of marriage she had become pregnant six times and each time she had miscarried the child. Each time the child was clearly a boy, the male heir to the Malfoy name. With each miscarriage she felt more and more like a failure. The depression weighed heavily upon her, shrouding her. She had thrown herself into renovating the dark Malfoy Manor and its grounds into a fabulous estate to be envied by all of Wizarding Europe. Each of the gardens had been created out of love while she thought of her lost child. She poured her love and her grief into the work creating a work of art that could not be rivaled by the finest horticulturist in Britain.  
  
She was proud of her work, but it was not enough. She longed for a child. She wished to be a mother and she needed a child in order to truly hold on to Lucius. She had heard the whispers, she knew that her father-in-law, Abraxas, was displeased with her and that he was already looking into annulling the marriage. She had reviewed her bonding contract and was relieved to see that the Lord Black, whom had negotiated her marriage contract personally, had insured that the contract stated she must bear a child. Child did not necessitate a male heir.  
  
The healers had said she should not try again. They had warned her that it would jeopardize her health. She knew that she was putting herself at risk, her life in jeopardy, but she was desperate. She loved Lucius. She loved him with every fiber of her being. She knew that he loved her as well, though he never said so. He did not have to say the words, he showed her. It was there in the way he held her at night, in the way he looked at her, in the way he gently touched her cheek before he left her side at breakfast every morning. She knew that he too longed for father-hood and he also mourned their lost children.  
  
‘I will give him a child.’ She vowed to herself.  
  
She was a daughter of the House of Black. She was well versed in dark magic. She knew that there were potions that would assist her in having the longed for child. She had found just the potion to use but it was complicated to brew, too complicated for her. She had chosen to call in an old debt owed to her by Severus Snape. He was the youngest Potions Master in Europe. He was a genius when it came to his craft. She had just known that he would, not only be able to brew the potion, but he might even be able to improve upon it.  
  
Severus had agreed to brew the potion for her. It was the challenge, she knew. He had never brewed a potion of it’s like before and he wished to test his skill. That was the lovely thing about Severus. He enjoyed a challenge.  
  
The potion had been delivered to her two weeks ago and she had followed Severus’ instructions to the letter. She had taken the potion right after dinner and she had happily seduced her husband as soon as he had rejoined her in their suite. She had conceived that very night, she was sure of it.  
  
She smiled as she ran a hand over her flat stomach. Soon it would be rounded with child. This time she would not lose the child. She had secretly hired her own medi-witch, one that would be dedicated to her care alone. After the loss of so many children, she no longer trusted the Malfoy Family physician to take proper care of her during her pregnancy.  
  
“Lady Malfoy.” Came the voice of her Medi-witch Rachel Hawthorne.  
  
Narcissa turned toward the dark haired woman, a soft smile of welcome curving her lips. “Healer Hawthorne, what a pleasant surprise. Please sit.” She said as she motioned with an elegant wave of her hand toward the opulent sofa and love seat.  
  
“Thank you.” The woman replied as she seated herself upon the sofa.  
  
Narcissa sat across from her on the love seat and then called her personal house elf, Miffy, and asked her to bring them some tea.  
  
“What brings you here today Healer Hawthorne?” Narcissa asked the woman. A sense of excitement slithered through her.  
  
“Lady Malfoy, I have asked you to call me Rachel.” The woman chided her.  
  
“You have.” She said as Miffy appeared and placed a tea tray upon the marble coffee table. “And I have asked you to call me Narcissa.” She reminded the woman.  
  
The woman laughed good-naturedly as Narcissa served the tea. “True.” She agreed. “Well, Narcissa, I have come with good news.”  
  
Narcissa slowly sat her tea cup down upon the saucer and she felt her hands tremble as she placed them in her lap. “I’m pregnant.” She breathed out softly.  
  
“Yes. You are pregnant.” Healer Hawthorne confirmed.  
  
Narcissa felt the sting of tears and they fell over her cheeks before she could hold them back. “Oh. Oh thank you. Thank you.” She murmured.  
  
The healer smiled as she sipped at her tea. “I have prescribed a regimen of potions that you will take during this pregnancy. And you must cease all social activities. No more balls and soirees until after you have safely recovered from a safe delivery.” Rachel explained.  
  
Narcissa had not considered the fact that she might have to cease her socializing immediately, but she did not balk at the possibility. If it gained her a healthy child then it was a worthwhile sacrifice. “Very well.” She agreed.  
  
“I think perhaps that you should enter into a confinement of sorts. You will be able to receive letters and visitors of close friends and family, but everything must be relaxing for you.” Hawthorne mused aloud. “As I understand it both your husband and your father-in-law conduct a great deal of their business from the Manor itself with their associates coming and going.”  
  
“Yes, that is true.” Narcissa said as she sipped at her tea. “I sometimes am called upon to entertain their guests.”  
  
Hawthorne nodded her head, she had thought as much. “Well, it would not do for you to be confined to the Manor then. You will need to enter confinement in another abode.”  
  
Narcissa was silent as she thought of possible places. There were many fine properties and houses that the Malfoy family possessed but she knew that she would not feel comfortable at such places without the guarantee that Abraxas had ceased trying to rid his son of her. “I was granted a dower home in the wedding settlement. It is mine to do with as I wish. White Hall, it is called.” She informed Healer Hawthorne.  
  
Hawthorne smiled. “Is it in good condition?” She asked of Narcissa.  
  
“It is. Though it is not fully furnished. It is in need of furniture and those little decorating touches that would make it a home.” Narcissa admitted.  
  
“Could furnishing White Hall be done swiftly?” Hawthorne asked of her. “Ideally, I would like you to enter confinement within the month.”  
  
Narcissa nodded her head decisively. “Of course it can.” She said already contemplating just how she might decorate White Hall to her own satisfaction.  
  
“Excellent.” Hawthorne proclaimed. “I will be staying with you at White Hall.” At Narcissa’s look of surprise the healer laughed lightly. “You hired me to take proper care of you.” She reminded Narcissa. That Narcissa had suffered six miscarriages went unvoiced but acknowledged between them nonetheless.  
  
Narcissa smiled in gratitude. “Thank you.” She found herself once again saying to the woman. ‘Get used to it Cissa. You will no doubt be saying it quite often.’ She thought happily as she watched Healer Hawthorne arise.  
  
“I’ll see myself out.” The healer said in her friendly way. “I hope to hear from you soon that White Hall is ready for habitation.”  
  
“Of course.” Narcissa said as she too arose. She watched the healer leave with a smile curving her lips.

 


	3. Confinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa retires to her Dower Estate, White Hall, where she shall spend her months of "Confinement" until the birth of her child.

Confinement  
White Hall,  
March 1980  
  
Narcissa found herself looking out the window of the carriage more and more often as the journey progressed. Due to her pregnancy, it was agreed by herself, Lucius, and Healer Hawthorne that she would travel to White Hall by carriage rather than by Floo. The act of floo travel was such a horrid squeezing sensation and due to Narcissa’s delicate state they feared for the child. Instead, Lucius determined that she would travel in her personal carriage drawn by the Malfoy families proud Abraxan’s. Well, the most domesticated of the Abraxan’s anyway.  
  
She found herself watching the passing scenery of the countryside and wondering if she would be able to truly enjoy her time of confinement. She had redecorated White Hall, furnishing it with beautiful beds, sofas, outdoor lounging chairs, and other such features. She had ordered copies of portraits of her favorite Malfoy ladies and her favorite Black ancestors to be placed in her home. She would be less lonely with them to converse with as she knew that her friends and Lucius would most likely remain quite busy and unable to attend to her whims.  
  
She had also designed a sun room for White Hall that was to become her painting room. She had always enjoyed water colors and she was quite skilled. Painting was relaxing, soothing. She was sure that it was a hobby that she would take joy in indulging in during her confinement.  
  
She had sent her personal House-Elf, Miffy, ahead of her to see that everything was prepared for her arrival. She placed a hand on her abdomen and smiled. Confinement would be hard on her, she was a social creature and preferred to be around people, but if peace and quiet is what was necessary to ensure that she could carry and give birth to a healthy child then of course that is what she would do.  
  
She wished that Lucius would come to her at night though. She sighed forlornly at that. Lucius had made it clear that he would not come and spend his nights with her at White Hall. He did not like the idea of laying his head to rest at night in a home that was not truly his own. White Hall was Narcissa’s and Lucius refused to spend his nights there. Narcissa had been more than disappointed at his rejection, she had become slightly paranoid.  
  
Was Lucius having an affair?  
  
The question taunted her. She could not help but worry and wonder. She tried to shake the thought away but it was persistent. She had been brought up by her mother to expect that her husband would eventually take on lovers. Her mother, Druella Black neé Rosier had certainly seen her own husband, Cygnus Black, take on lovers. Narcissa had hoped that her own marriage would be different. Unlike her parents arranged marriage, Narcissa’s marriage to Lucius had not been a betrothal contract. It had been a love match with Lucius wooing her and proposing marriage. Then her kinsman Lord Black had met with Abraxas Malfoy to iron out the appropriate marriage contract.

She had been married to Lucius for seven years and in that time she had not caught any hint that he might stray from her. That knowledge made her feel guilty for doubting him, for suspecting the worst of him. It was just that he had been so distant of late. He claimed he was busy with his projects and really Narcissa had no true reason to believe otherwise. It was her vulnerability that had brought forward such fear and doubts.  
  
She sighed and tried to push away thoughts of Lucius. She could not let herself stress. She had to be calm, serene, and happy. She felt the carriage slowing and she glanced out the window to see that they were passing through the gates of White Hall. She felt the familiar magic of the boundary wards wash over her. It was a slight tingling sensation that she was all too familiar with. The Black family magics were saturated all over White Hall.  
  
She watched with a growing sense of peace as the carriage brought her up the drive and toward the front steps of the beautiful white bricked manor home. It was odd to think that the Black family owned such a beautiful sparkling white home. She wished she had bought one of those wizarding cameras so that she could take a few photos and send it to her cousin, Sirius. He had always ranted about how vile and wretched their family was and how everything they owned was dark and terrible. This home might just change his mind, though she doubted very much that he might ever admit it.  
  
She sighed in happy relief as the carriage came to a halt. Within a few moments her driver, Gyles Standish, had hopped down from the driver’s seat and then opened the door and brought down the steps for her. He offered her a slight bow and his hand to assist her. She gave him a grateful smile and place her hand in his allowing him to assist her to the freshly raked gravel. She then took her hand from his and strode passed him toward the front steps of her home.  
  
She had made it up the steps and was headed to the front door when Miffy appeared before her. “Greetings Mistress and welcome to White Hall.” Miffy said in an excited tone that had Narcissa’s lips twitching up at the corners.  
  
“Thank you Miffy.” She said to the house-elf. “Would you please have someone see to my luggage so that Gyles might put the carriage away and stable the horses?”  
  
“Of course Mistress.” Miffy said and then called out “Nym.” Another house-elf arrived with a soft pop. “Nym, please collect the Mistresses luggage and take it to her bed chamber.”  
  
Nym, the younger elf that highly resembled Miffy, nodded eagerly and looked shyly at Narcissa before he rushed toward the carriage and took charge of her luggage.  
  
Narcissa controlled the urge to laugh. House-elves were truly enchanting creatures. She knew that the Malfoy’s did not share her enchantment with house-elves though so she had tried to curb her delight in watching them over the years. She smiled as she realized that at White Hall she could watch them and get to know them. The elves of White Hall were gifts to her from Lord Black. They were her elves, hers alone not Lucius’. They would never have to answer to Lucius or his father. The thought that they would never be compelled to obey anyone but Narcissa was actually a great comfort.  
  
She strolled into her home and felt a sense of satisfaction fill her as she looked around at her surroundings. Hard pale cream marble floor was beneath her feet as she strolled into the entrance hall. There were two sets of curving stairs that led up to the second floor landing. There upon the wall at the top of the landing hung a tapestry of the Black Coat of Arms. Narcissa had only briefly considered replacing it with the Malfoy Coat of Arms before she discarded the notion. White Hall had belonged to the Black family not the Malfoy’s and so she found it quite fitting to proudly display her birth family’s Coat of Arms.  
  
She entered the room to the right of one of the staircases and found herself in a sunlit lounge. She smiled as she took in the elegantly decorated room. The sofas and chairs were soft creams and golden browns with decorative cushions of more lively colors. The decorative cushions were green with swirling cream patterns. There was a fire burning in the ornate fireplace that took the winter chill from the air.  
  
Narcissa sat herself down upon one of the blush sofas and smiled as she looked at the empty space over the fireplace. She had purposely left that place barren. She knew just what she wanted to place there. A portrait. She wished to put a portrait of herself and her child there. She pursed her lips in thought then. She would need to pick out a great artist to commission for the work but she knew she had time to figure out just whom she should seek out for the work. She had months and months yet.  
  
She smiled with the thought and let herself relax against the couch cushions. It was not long before she fell asleep upon the sofa.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration for what White Hall looks like is Ashurst Manor.


	4. Loyalties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas and Lucius have a discussion over family loyalty.

Loyalties  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England  
June 1980  
   
Abraxas Malfoy stood casually before the fire place of Malfoy Manor’s lounge. It was, he decided, a tastefully decorated room. Creams, deep blues, and dark brown Walnut wood dominated the room. It had been his daughter-in-law’s choice and Abraxas was quite willing to admit that Narcissa had an eye for fine décor. Her elegant tastes were not the problem that he had with his daughter-in-law. No. It was her lack in producing a male heir for the House of Malfoy that he detested.  
   
If only Narcissa would produce the desired heir then he would be content to let Lucius keep her as his wife. Abraxas had no desire to see his son unhappy after all. He knew that Lucius was in love with Narcissa and that she in turn loved his son very deeply. He did not disdain love. That would be foolish. Love was a great and powerful force and Abraxas was a man who recognized and appreciated power in all of its many forms.  
   
He was never a man blinded by love and devotion though. He was a reserved man, a patient one. He was shrewd, patient, and always knew just when to strike. He knew how to pick his battles and when to fold. Because of this he was truly unbreakable.  
   
His son however worried him. Lucius did not have his reserve nor his patience. His son was shrewd, there was no denying that, but his emotions were not properly governed. Lucius could hide his emotions behind a cold and bored social mask but he was still all too governed by those emotions. More than once Abraxas had thought that Lucius would benefit from the loss of Narcissa. Perhaps after having his heart ripped out so cruelly he would then be less governed by his emotions.  
   
It was something Abraxas had often contemplated in the last few years but he knew that he would not do anything to harm Narcissa. He was fond of his daughter-in-law and besides, he was all too aware that the House of Black would declare a blood feud upon the House of Malfoy if Narcissa died of anything other than old age. He knew when to fold.  
   
Abraxas wished that Narcissa was not in confinement at White Hall. He understood her need for the Confinement of course. She had suffered six miscarriages before this pregnancy and her health was precarious due to those losses. All protective measures had to be taken for the sake of her and her unborn child. Still, if Narcissa had been here at the Manor then Lucius would have doted upon his pregnant wife. Instead Lucius had become even deeper embroiled in the affairs of the Dark Lord Voldemort.  
   
Abraxas was an ally of Voldemort, but he was not a naïve young man such as Lucius. Abraxas remembered when Voldemort was Tom Riddle, a Slytherin Student at Hogwarts. The Heir of Slytherin Voldemort might be. A preserver of the old ways he might be as well, but Abraxas knew better than to trust Voldemort to ensure the preservation of the House of Malfoy. That duty was Abraxas’ and Lucius’ not Voldemort’s. In truth Abraxas knew that Voldemort would do what was best for Voldemort alone. He would use them to get his way. That his way currently coincided with the ideals of the greater ancient families was the real reason that many of their families had allied themselves with Voldemort. Abraxas did not truly count himself as a follower or a servant of Voldemort. He counted himself as an ally.  
   
His son though was a servant and that irritated Abraxas. Malfoy’s were not servants. They did not bow and scrape before anyone.  
   
He turned his head toward the doorway as he heard footsteps drawing closer to his location. Soon enough Lucius entered the room to join his brooding sire. Abraxas turned slowly to look at his son, his heir. At twenty-six Lucius looked like a virile and handsome Adonis. The Malfoy’s had always been beautiful and powerful. Long ago they had watched other powerful bloodlines fall in power due to their inbreeding. The Malfoy’s were careful to insure that their line did not share the same fate as other powerful houses. Lucius was a fine product of that very careful cultivation. Abraxas had permitted Lucius to wed his heart’s desire mostly because Narcissa of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black could claim no Malfoy ancestors and that her lineage was far less inbred than any of the other available ladies of proper heritage.  
   
“Father.” Lucius greeted him with a smile curving his lips. “I have just come from dinner at White Hall.”  
   
“How fairs Narcissa?” Abraxas asked of Lucius in genuine curiosity. He sincerely hoped that Narcissa was well and carrying the Malfoy heir. They would need the security of a male heir against Voldemort’s machinations, of that he was sure.  
   
“She is well. The child grows within her.” Lucius said with a smirk of pure satisfaction. “I spoke alone with Cissa’s healer. The woman assured me that the babe is healthy and has a strong heartbeat. Cissa has taken to painting with her water colors and planning to renovate the nursery. She wishes to name the boy Draco.”  
   
“Black’s and their constellations.” Abraxas muttered with a smile of affection. “Draco is a strong name.” He mused.  
   
“Yes. I have told her she may name him Draco.” Lucius informed his father. “For giving me my long awaited for Heir she may name the child whatever she wishes.”  
   
Abraxas nodded his agreement. “I had to wait for you as well. I was ready to agree with any name your mother might have wanted. She named you Lucius because she was sure you would be a shining light.”  
   
“I hope to be.” Lucius said as he moved toward the small bar located at the side of the room. He poured himself a small snifter of Brandy.  
   
“Yes, but for whom Lucius?” Abraxas subtly attacked.  
   
“What do you mean, father?” Lucius inquired as he moved toward the chair by the window. He sat himself down in an elegant sprawl that many would envy for he still managed to look graceful.  
   
Abraxas studied his son for a moment and wondered just how deep of a hold did the Dark Lord have on his son? “Will you be a shining light for House Malfoy or for the Dark Lord?” Abraxas chose to speak plainly for the moment.  
   
Lucius raised his glass to his lips and took a long swallow, a tactic to buy time Abraxas was sure. “You speak as though they cannot be the same thing.” Lucius said cautiously.  
   
“They are not the same thing.” Abraxas admitted because this was his son. Lucius needed his honesty now and Abraxas needed to know if he could trust his Heir or if he must look beyond him to an unborn child.  
   
Lucius stiffened at his words and Abraxas felt as though his fears were already confirmed. “Father, surely you are not losing faith?” He questioned. “I know how you feel watching as that idiot Dumbledore and others like him trample on the Old Ways. How they destroy our culture, spit at our history. I know it hurts father but you cannot lose faith. The Dark Lord will put these things to right.” Lucius said the last with all the confidence of a true believer.  
   
Abraxas closed his eyes and for a moment bowed his head. He felt as though he had lost his son. Was this what Narcissa and Lucius had felt while they mourned each child. There was an ache inside of him though he did not show it. Lucius might swiftly become his enemy and he could not allow himself to be vulnerable before an enemy.  
   
“Your faith in the Dark Lord is that absolute?” Abraxas asked of Lucius and watched his son’s face as he carefully wondered what had gotten into his father.  
   
“Yes, of course it is.” Lucius said after a moment of thought. “Lord Voldemort is our future. He will punish those who have tried to steal our heritage from us and he will bring back a golden age.”  
   
“There has never been a golden age.” Abraxas chided his son.  
   
“Then he will create one.” Lucius insisted with all of the strength of a true zealot.  
   
“And House Malfoy?” Abraxas asked of him. “What shall its future be?”  
   
“Servants of the Dark Lord of course.” Lucius said as though it were the only answer, the only thing that could make sense. “Lord Voldemort needs us and we need him.”  
   
“You are half right, Lucius.” Abraxas murmured as he crossed the room to the liquor and swiftly he poured himself a glass from his favorite brand of Bourbon.  
   
“Half correct?” Lucius frowned at his father.  
   
“Yes. The Dark Lord needs House Malfoy.” Abraxas conceded after savoring a drink from his glass. “However, we do not need him Lucius.”  
   
“But of course we do.” Lucius insisted. “Only through him will the Old Ways be reinstated. Only through him will we have Samhain sacred again instead of that stupid little Muggle holiday Halloween. Yule will be sacred again instead of Christmas. Can you not see it father, the bright future?”  
   
“You are allowing yourself to become a slave, Lucius.” Abraxas growled. He was out of patience with his Heir. “You are a Malfoy, you will be Lord Malfoy when I am dead. Malfoy’s bow to no one boy.”  
   
Lucius glared at his father, blue eyes shining with anger. “Malfoy’s never bowed before because they had not found anyone worthy of bowing to.” He said. “Lord Voldemort is worth all of our devotion. Through him the world will be great and House Malfoy will be there at his side in greatness.”  
   
Abraxas stared at Lucius with a glare of his own. “No one means No One.” He said firmly. “You are making a slave of yourself Lucius and now you are talking about selling your descendants into slavery with you.” He hissed at his son.  
   
“It is not slavery!” Lucius hissed out as he rose to his feet. “I serve the Dark Lord willingly. I bear his mark.” He said and raised the sleeve to show his father the snake and skull in black ink. It marred Lucius’ otherwise perfect flesh.  
   
Abraxas fought the urge to sneer at the sight of that disgusting mark marring his son, his Heir. “He branded you and yet you tell me that you are no slave.” He said dismissively. He took another swallow of his drink. “Lucius, the Dark Lord does not care about House Malfoy except for what House Malfoy can give to him. He, like a parasite, will suck up all that we can give and when we have nothing left then he will toss us aside.”  
   
“No.” Lucius said firmly. “The Dark Lord cares for me. He cares for all of his followers. He would never cast aside his true servants.”  
   
Abraxas shook his head once and fought the urge to run his hand through his short silver-blond hair. “You have bowed to this man, given yourself to him as a bonded slave. You had no right to do this when you are Heir to this House. However it is done and cannot be undone.” Abraxas said at last and felt the knowledge settle over his shoulders, a heavy cloak, yet another burden to bear. “But you are not the Malfoy yet. You are not head of this house yet. Your children will not be slaves to the Dark Lord or to anyone.” He pronounced. “I will use my dying breath to make sure of that.” His words were a deadly promise and he watched as Lucius recoiled as if struck.  
   
He met his son’s gaze with hard ice-blue eyes and watched as his bright and shining Lucius arose and turned away from him leaving him alone in the room. A soft sigh left his lips after a few moments of silence.  
   
Abraxas was a politician and a businessman. He had brokered hard deals. He had assisted with international magic treaties. He had helped the creation of policy within the Wizarding World and he sat upon the Wizengamot. He was a hard man who had handled hard business. Yet what he had just done was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life.  
   
‘The gauntlet is thrown now.’ Abraxas thought as he finished his glass of Bourbon. ‘The line is drawn. Lucius now knows that I do not stand as an enthusiastic follower of Voldemort.’  
   
That Lucius would eventually tell the Dark Lord. Of that he had no doubt. Abraxas would meet with his solicitor tomorrow and begin to prepare for the next generation. His days were surely numbered now. He had to do all that he could to protect Lucius’ child from its sire.


	5. Traitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy visit's his wife at her home, White Hall. Narcissa learns a shocking and heart breaking truth about her husband.

Traitor  
White Hall, Suffolk, England  
August 1980

  
   
Lucius frowned down at the little House-Elf whom had appeared to greet him. The little Elf was wearing a sort of uniform that he had never seen before. Had his wife grown foolish enough to give the Elves clothes?   
   
The House-Elf wore a pair of little white trousers and a white short sleeves shirt. Upon the collar, hem, and cuffs of the outfit was an embroidered pattern of Narcissus flowers, more commonly known as the Daffodil. The Elf bowed before him, showing him the deference he was due. Lucius smirked at that. At least this House-Elf still knew its place.  
   
“Where is my wife?” He asked of the House-Elf. Though he was sure it was the same one that greeted him each time he arrived at White Hall he never bothered with learning the little being’s name. What was the point? It was one of Narcissa’s House-Elves not his own.  
   
“Mistress Narcissa is in the back garden, Mister Malfoy sir.” Was the prompt reply. “Shall I lead you to Mistress?”  
   
“No. I know the way.” Lucius muttered as he moved past the creature. House-Elves were sufficient tools, best utilized for common tasks such as cleaning. Lucius hated talking with them and he could not understand why his wife was always so kind to the Malfoy House-Elves. He had noticed that they were more subdued without Narcissa at the Manor. They clearly missed their Mistress. She had been too kind to them, coddling them. Lucius had enjoyed putting fear back into their little hearts during Narcissa’s absence.  
   
He paused only briefly to stare up at the Black Family Coat of Arms that held pride of place in the welcoming hall and he frowned at it. Narcissa should take it down. She should put the Malfoy Coat of Arms in its place. He had thought this every time he visited her at White Hall but he had, as of yet, refrained from speaking with her about it. He knew she would argue and he did not wish for her stubbornness on so simple a matter to cause harm to their unborn child.  
   
He continued on through the hall heading toward the doors that would lead him to the back gardens of White Hall. He hated visiting this home. It was a beautiful Manor House, smaller than Malfoy Manor and yet there was an oppressive presence here that Lucius abhorred. Every time he stepped foot through the wards of White Hall he felt as though the very magic around him were judging him and finding him unworthy of being there. It was a ridiculous notion, but one that Lucius had yet to shake away.  
   
A House-Elf squeaked when it laid it’s large oval eyes upon him and his lips curved up in a sneer even as it bowed and then opened the door that led to the outdoors. Lucius stepped through and blinked twice to accustom himself to the bright early August sunshine of Suffolk.   
   
He felt something in him relax, ever so briefly, as he laid his eyes upon his beautiful wife. Truly Narcissa was the most beautiful of the daughters of House Black to be born in her generation. She was a rare jewel in the House of Black for unlike the other damsels of that most Ancient and Noble House, Narcissa had been born a blonde instead of the raven hair that was so traditional of that house. She was a classical beauty with a heart shaped face, lips that were neither too lush nor too thin but were just perfect in his opinion, a straight elegant nose, high cheekbones, and truly the most perfect eyes he had ever beheld. Narcissa’s eye color was the traditional gray of the House of Black and he never ceased to find them fascinating. Sometimes they looked like dark storm clouds and other times like polished silver. She had maintained her svelte figure over the years but now she was larger than he had ever seen her. Her once flat stomach was now big with child. She was in her sixth month of pregnancy now and though she was heavy with child she glowed from within. Lucius thought she looked radiant as he watched her lips pucker into a cute frown as she stared at the flower arrangement in front of her.  
   
Lucius chuckled then as he took in the hideous arrangement that Narcissa had managed. He smiled at her as she turned her gaze to him and she smiled in greeting.

“And just what, pray, are you laughing about?” Narcissa asked with a playful tone to her voice.  
   
Lucius came to her then and wrapped his arms about her, pulling her back against his chest. He rested his hands upon the sides of her bulging stomach where he would have a better chance to feel the movements of his child. “You can plan out and create the most beautiful gardens in Europe, but you have not yet been able to manage a beautiful flower arrangement.” He teased her even as he placed a kiss upon her left temple.  
   
Narcissa pouted. “I really do not know how Andromeda was able to do this. She was always better at this than I.” She admitted. “It is why I asked Nym to instruct me.”  
   
“Andromeda?” Lucius asked as he stiffened. He was too late in fighting the natural reaction that mention of Andromeda brought him. Narcissa did not usually mention her cast-out Blood-Traitor sister, but she had begun to mention Andromeda during this pregnancy and Lucius had tried to do nothing that would upset her.  
   
Narcissa turned in his arms and stared up into his face. “Yes, Andromeda. Mother instructed Andromeda, Bellatrix, and I in flower arranging but only Andromeda seemed to be good at it. She was a natural, often succeeding in creating more beautiful creations than mother could manage.”  
   
Lucius clenched his teeth and fought the urge to order his wife to never again mention her Blood-Traitor sister. It was bad enough knowing that families like the Weasley’s had turned their back on their culture and beliefs, but when Narcissa dared to speak her traitorous sister’s name it was a stark reminder that he was related by marriage to a Blood-Traitor. It was disgusting, sickening. It gave him a new respect for Bellatrix’s zeal. She surely felt ashamed of Andromeda and feared that the Dark Lord would judge her by Andromeda’s weakness.  
   
“I miss her sometimes.” Narcissa admitted in a quiet voice as she stared at Lucius. “She was my elder sister. I love her.”  
   
“Loved.” Lucius insisted, unable to stop himself.   
   
Narcissa’s gaze turned thoughtful as she registered what he said. “Loved and Love.” She said lightly. “I did not stop loving her.”  
   
“Then you will remedy that poor judgement as soon as you are able.” He insisted. “Your Blood-Traitor sister will never be welcome to Malfoy Manor. Do not delude yourself into thinking that you can somehow mend the rift and bring her back to the family fold.” He hissed out the last as he moved away from her. He felt angry with Narcissa for even thinking that she could make happy with Andromeda. Would she sacrifice all that they stood for just so she could once more speak with that Blood-Traitor?  
   
Narcissa watched her husband as he moved away from her with no little bit of confusion. “If you say that Andromeda will never be welcome at Malfoy Manor then your will be done.” She said quietly. She watched as he seemed to relax a fraction before she spoke again. “However, White Hall shall remain open to her, should she ever wish to visit.”  
   
Lucius turned hard blue eyes upon her and stared at her for several long moments. “Naïve Cissa.” He murmured. “You have been locked away here for half a year. You really do not understand what has been happening in the world.”  
   
“While I do not listen to the Wizarding Wireless, I do still receive both newspapers and magazines husband.” She informed him in a tone that showed her irritation at how he dared to patronize her. “I know plenty of things about what is going on in our world.”  
   
“You know what is printed in the press.” Lucius willingly gave her that concession. “But you do not know what is going on behind the scenes. You do not know. The Dark Lord is moving his plans forward, the chance will come within this year or the next for us to regain all that we have lost.”  
   
Narcissa felt a shiver of fear race down her spine. She had only met the man known as the Dark Lord once before. He had been introduced as an old associate of her father-in-law. As soon as she had felt his magic she had been afraid of him. Never before had she been in the presence of someone who had reeked of evil. That was saying something since the Black’s had never been afraid to dabble with magics that most would not.   
   
“What have you done Lucius?” She asked of him in a voice that was strangely hollow.  
   
“I have assured our future in the hierarchy of Magical Europe.” He informed her. “I have pledged myself to Lord Voldemort.” Lucius felt the pride of being one of the Dark Lord’s great chosen warm him. Once only thoughts of his beautiful wife could make him feel so wonderful, so powerful, and so content but now Narcissa paled in comparison to how he felt while he was in the presence of his Master.  
   
“Pledged your support?” She asked confused. “I thought you and your father had already done that.”  
   
Lucius smirked as he slowly rolled up the sleeve of his robe to show her the proof of his fealty to Lord Voldemort. “This,” He said as he trailed a finger over the black tattoo that marred the otherwise pale canvas of his flesh. “Is the proof of my fealty to My Overlord.” He informed her. “And when our child is of age he too shall kneel before Lord Voldemort and be given the honor of Our Lord’s mark.”  
   
Narcissa felt as if she could not breathe. She placed a hand over her stomach as though she could somehow protect her unborn child from Lucius’ decision. She felt two swift kicks inside of her and it jolted her from her panic. She fought for calm and forced herself to take a steadying breath and then another. “Your father could not have been happy with your choice.” She managed to declare.  
   
Lucius frowned then. “It was not his choice to make. It was mine.” He insisted firmly as he looked out over the gardens. He was pleased that they did not look as beautiful as the Malfoy gardens, but then his Cissa had only been at White Hall for six months. It had taken her seven years to turn the Malfoy Gardens into the masterpiece of Europe.  
   
“You are the Heir of House Malfoy, it was not your choice to make.” She insisted as she gripped the edge of the garden table hard. “What you did, it is akin to what Sirius did when he abandoned the family.”  
   
Lucius turned back to look at her, his sharp blue gaze alight with anger. “How dare you insinuate that I am anything like your vile traitorous cousin?” He spat. “First you speak of Andromeda and now of Sirius, should I worry about your loyalty?”  
   
“My loyalty?” Narcissa reared back as if she had been struck. “How dare I? No. How dare you? How dare you turn your back on your family by selling yourself to this man? And you intend to sell your child as well? At least Sirius did not sell the whole family to Dumbledore. He only sold his own soul to the old fool and that was bad enough.” She hissed out.  
   
“Narcissa, Voldemort is the wave of the future. He will bring the Old Ways back to prominence and he will put Blood-Traitors and Muggle-borns in their place.” Lucius said firmly. “You will see. You just do not understand. As I said, you have been too long confined and no longer understand. But it is alright Cissa.” He said in a reassuring tone of voice, one that mimicked love but did not actually grant the true emotion. “When you have given birth to our heir and have recovered then you can host Our Lord for a dinner party. Then you can become reacquainted with him and you will finally understand that he will grant us all that we have truly wanted.”  
   
She slowly turned her gaze away, but not before Lucius had noticed the tears that had gathered at the corners of her eyes and were threatening to fall. Lucius watched her for a moment more and sighed. “You will see Cissa.” He promised her and then he turned away and entered the house once more.   
   
He swiftly made his way through the house and then exited through the front doors. He wandered down the drive and ruthlessly fought to ignore the small part of his mind that wondered if perhaps both his father and his wife were correct in their disdain of his decision. He had never had such a terrible argument with Cissa in all of the years of their marriage. She was normally so amenable to his desires and wishes. She normally granted him her support. Had he made a mistake?   
   
He thought once more of the Dark Lord. Voldemort was unlike anyone he had ever known before. He spoke eloquently yet passionately about the Old Ways and about the Dark Arts. He knew more than any Professor or Tutor that Lucius had ever been privileged to have. Lucius adored being in the presence of the Dark Lord, his Master. He felt needed, wanted, truly appreciated, and loved while in the Dark Lord’s presence. He had once felt these things when with his wife and he still did, though to a far lesser degree. Narcissa no longer inspired the passion of spirit within him that she once had. Their time apart had shown him that he did not desire her as once he did.   
   
No, he decided as he felt himself move past the wards of White Hall. He had not made the wrong choice. The Dark Lord needed him and he would not willingly let him down. He would give him all that the Malfoy’s could offer and he and his child would be rewarded beyond his wildest dreams for doing so.


	6. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa chooses to reconnect with her outcast sister.

Fear  
White Hall, Suffolk, England  
September 1980

  
   
It would be a lie if she were to say that she were not afraid after her husband’s last visit. It had been a month since then and she had yet to see his face. He had sent her presents and written her short missives giving excuses as to why he could not come and spend time with her at White Hall. Each new luxurious gift was meant to placate her for his desertion. The last gift was a beautiful crystal dragon. She would have destroyed it except that Healer Hawthorne had been present when she had received it and she had not been inclined to inform the healer of her personal differences with Lucius.  
   
It was just as well. The dragon was intricately designed. It was a true work of art. She could keep it for Draco someday. It was a bittersweet reminder to Narcissa of the time early in her pregnancy when Lucius and she had spoken of children’s names. She had wished to name her son Draco. She had yet to think of girl names, too afraid that doing so would ensure a female child. In truth she would not mind a female child. After Lucius’ decision that their son should bow before that evil man and call him Master, Narcissa had secretly begun to hope that she was carrying a daughter instead of a son. Lucius would not see a daughter as worthy of becoming a servant of his great powerful master.  
   
It was a bitter thought. One of many that she had suffered with during the days since early August when Lucius had revealed to her how he had let some man mark him like chattel and how he was giddy with the excitement that one day their son would be so marked. She could not bear the thought.  
   
She had been tempted to write a letter to Sirius, begging him for his help. She had not put ink to parchment yet but that was only because she did not believe that Sirius would help her. Sirius had been the heir to the family and as such he would have held great sway and power when he came of age. Yet he had only cared about himself, well himself and their distant cousin James Potter. He had run away from home at sixteen and he had left his younger brother Regulus to endure their mother’s vile poison. Just because Regulus was a Slytherin and better at doing things to ensure that he earned praise instead of censure from Orion and Walburga Black did not mean that the young man had agreed with them. Sirius had zero tolerance for anyone in the family who was not like him and that certainly included Regulus. Narcissa felt as though Sirius had abandoned them, his brother and his cousins, and she was not sure she could ever forgive him for that.  
   
She had thought of writing to Andromeda. She didn’t care what Lucius said. He could dictate however long he wished but it would not change how she felt. She loved her sister and that love still burned in her breast. Andromeda had never attempted contact after she had run off with Ted Tonks. Narcissa had often felt hurt about that but as she matured she began to wonder if perhaps Andromeda were simply cautious. Why set herself up for a hurt she could avoid? If Narcissa wished to speak with Andromeda then she would have to make the opening move.  
   
It was with these thoughts in mind that she called Nym to her. She smiled gently at the House-Elf as he appeared before her. Nym was dressed in the simple trousers and shirt decorated in Narcissus flowers that she had designed for her House-Elves. Their clothing subtly declared that they belonged to her and her alone.   
   
“Mistress be calling Nym?” The little Elf asked with a soft spoken voice. She was pleased to note that he was less shy then he had been when she had first arrived. She knew that he had been happy to see her but also afraid that his presence might upset her. Nym had been assigned as Andromeda’s personal House-Elf when they had been children. Because he belonged to the Black family and had been privy to their secrets he could not go with Andromeda when she eloped. Nym had been sent to White Hall to remove him from the presence of Narcissa’s parents so he would not remind them of their traitor daughter. Now, thanks to the grace of Lord Black, Nym belonged to her.   
   
“Yes Nym.” She said to the little Elf and smiled kindly at him. “Nym, I miss my sister.” She said softly. “I had wondered if perhaps you might miss her too and if you do then I would ask you to go to Andromeda and present yourself to her so that you may take care of her once more.” She informed the Elf. “You will still be bound to the Black family as my Elf but you will tend to my elder sister and do as she instructs so long as it would not interfere with Oaths that you have taken to House Black.”  
   
Nym looked up at her with large green eyes. “Oh Mistress Narcissa always was a kind child.” He praised her. “Nym would be honored to take care of Mistress Andromeda once more.”  
   
“Then present yourself to Andromeda and tell her that you belong to me and that I have dearly missed her and long to hear from her.” She paused in thought and then smiled. “Tell her that I have been granted White Hall as my dowry and that it is mine alone so my husband has no authority here. Tell her that if she ever wishes or needs the sanctuary of White Hall then she and her family will be welcome here while I draw breath.”  
   
“Yes Mistress.” Nym said bouncing happily from foot to foot. “I will tell Mistress Andromeda. I will go at once.”  
   
Narcissa nodded as the little elf disappeared before her with a soft popping sound left in his wake.  
   
“That was a cunning move, utilizing the Elf in that manner.” Came the voice from the portrait on the wall to her right. The portrait was of one of Narcissa’s favorite Malfoy wives, Lucretia Malfoy. Lucretia had been the wife of Apollo Malfoy, her husband’s Great-Grandfather. Lucretia had been an ethereal blond. So beautiful was Lucretia that Narcissa suspected that Lucretia had Veela blood, though Lucius denied it vehemently. Narcissa had often wondered if that was a case of Lucius protesting too much.  
   
“I agree.” Came the voice of her own Great-Great Grandmother, Violetta Black. Violetta was born of the House of Bulstrode and held the physical characteristics of that family. She was of a stocky build like most of her family and she had the typical wavy brown hair of the Bulstrode’s. “Andromeda was always fond of her Elf. She will be more likely to respond to you with the gift of his service.”  
   
Narcissa let herself smile as she listened to the two women. “I had thought to write to her but then I thought about her either destroying the letter unread or tucking it away but too afraid to read it.” She admitted. “If I were in her position, those would be my reactions. I would do one or the other depending on the depth of my fear.”  
   
“Lucius is a fool! You should hear the arguments between Lucius and Abraxas.” Lucretia said. She often visited her portrait at Malfoy Manor just to catch up on the gossip within the sacred Malfoy halls.   
   
“Lord Malfoy and Lucius are fighting?” Narcissa asked of Lucretia, her curiosity piqued.  
   
The woman smirked. “Yes. It seems that Abraxas was not thrilled with his son’s choice to bow before the man they call the Dark Lord. Perfectly understandable. Malfoy’s do not bow.” She said with a delicate sniff. “I do not know how Lucius could lower himself to grovel like that.”  
   
Violetta’s laugh was cruel as she pointed out. “I never thought that man deserving of you Narcissa and look. I was right! He is not man enough for you. Not with him bowing down to that..that thing.”  
   
Narcissa sighed in annoyance. She did not wish to discuss again with her Great-Great Grandmother’s portrait just why it was that she had married Lucius. There would be no convincing Violetta to change her mind. Narcissa idly wondered if a portrait could change their mind. They did not really have a mind to change. A magical portrait was painted with magical paints, the spells interwoven with the paint and fabric to give the portrait the ability to appear alive. An essence of their own magic and memories were also put within the portrait to give the portrait knowledge and personality. Narcissa wondered if the portraits were limited to only the amount of maturity and knowledge they had achieved at the time of the portraits activation.  
   
“Yes, well, it seems that their latest row was about Abraxas thwarting some of Lucius’ plans.” Lucretia revealed with glee. “From what I was able to gather, Abraxas saw his solicitor in early June in order to set up some things to do with your child’s inheritance. While he has not disinherited Lucius, he did work around him entirely. He has insured that Lucius will never be able to access his child’s vaults or any estates that Abraxas might bestow upon them without knowing a password that he can tell the Goblins of Gringotts or to the Solicitor that he has now assigned to manage the estate and vaults of your child.” Lucretia sounded smug when she finished explaining the latest Malfoy family gossip.  
   
Narcissa clutched the silk fabric of her dark blue dress stunned. She remained in this state for several moments before she slowly regained her senses. “I, well, I think that I owed a great deal of thanks to Lord Malfoy.” She murmured. “I knew that Abraxas would be angry with Lucius but I had no idea that he would go to such measures to ensure the future security of my little one.” She said as she placed her hand upon her stomach.   
   
A moment later she shifted to attempt to rub at her lower back. The aches and pains were a consistent part of her life at present. Though she did not like it, she felt it was a small price to pay for having her child. She was due to give birth at the end of October or early November and she could not wait to finally meet her little child. She was now truly unafraid of miscarriage. She was confident she would carry to term. Every one of her previous miscarriages had been before the fourth month of pregnancy. Now in her eighth month of pregnancy she knew that she would not lose her child, though she still prayed that she would carry to term since it would be better for the babe.  
   
It was unfortunate that the ending of one fear would bring about others. Now she feared her capability to protect her child. When would Lucius hand their son over to the Dark Lord? She had suffered more than one nightmare where her infant son was handed over to that monster. In one dream the child was not deemed good enough and Voldemort had killed him before her very eyes. In another dream the Dark Lord had coveted her child and had taken him away from her where he would be raised as the Dark Heir. Lucius had been so very happy and the Dark Lord had looked upon her husband in such a strange way. It was covetous and possessive but it was not passionate. His look did not look like a desire of the flesh. She had interpreted it as her mind’s way of trying to tell her that Voldemort coveted the Malfoy’s power both magical and political.  
   
She was startled from her thoughts by the apparition of a House-Elf. It took her a moment to realize that it was Nym returning to her and she felt her nerves string tight with fear of what Nym would tell her.  
   
“Mistress Narcissa, Nym is returning to you at the request of Mistress Andromeda to give you a message from Mistress Andromeda.” Nym told her.  
   
“Oh yes. Please, what is the message from my sister?” Narcissa asked in a breathless rush.  
   
“Mistress Andromeda says thank you for sending her old friend Nym back to her to assist her in these dark times. She says thank you for the offer of the shelter of White Hall and she promises that she will take shelter at White Hall if she and her family need to do so. She says that Mistress Narcissa has never left Mistress Andromeda’s heart and that she never shall.” Nym nodded proudly as he ended his recitation but a moment later he looked startled because he noticed Narcissa’s tears. “Mistress Narcissa is sad?”  
   
“No.” Narcissa rushed to reassure Nym. “I am not sad.” She assured the Elf. “I am so very happy to hear from my sister. My heart overflows with happiness. These are happy tears.” She reassured the Elf.  
   
“If Mistress is sure.” Nym said somewhat cautiously, clearly still worried that Narcissa was actually sad instead of happy. Narcissa’s smile seemed to relieve the Elf more.  
   
“Please return to Andromeda. Tell her of my pregnancy and warn her that my husband bears the Morsmordre Mark. Please tell her to flee if she sees him. I do not trust Lucius not to harm her. Tell her that if she needs to message me to send you. And you must always be cautious to remain unseen by Lucius, is that understood?”  
   
Nym thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yes Mistress Narcissa.” He said with confidence before he bowed and then disappeared with the soft pop of House-Elf apparition.  
   
“Do you think that Lucius would harm Andromeda?” Violetta asked in a tone that said she was clearly appalled.  
   
“I do not know.” Narcissa said slowly. “I, I never thought so before, but then I never before thought that my proud and handsome Lucius would willingly bow before anyone.”  
   
“He is a weak prince of the House of Malfoy.” Lucretia voiced her opinion. “Your child shall be more worthy of the name Malfoy.” She declared with a confidence that Narcissa keenly wished that she felt.


	7. Samhain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Samhain Narcissa finally gives birth.

Samhain

White Hall, Suffolk, England

October 31 - November 1, 1980

  
   
Narcissa awoke with a gasp and slowly shuffled to sit up in her bed. Her girth made the endeavor difficult. When at last she was leaning against the pillows at her headboard she placed a hand over her racing heart. Her dreams had been full of strange images as Samhain neared. She was beginning to wonder if they were portents of some sort.  
   
She sat in silence for some time listening to the sound of her breathing as it slowed and tried once more to make sense of her dreams. The first dream had happened four months ago and Narcissa was sure that the location in her dream was the east garden of Malfoy Manor. Playing amongst the flowers that she had planted there with such care were two little blond haired girls. In that particular dream the two girls seemed to be weaving flowers into jewelry and crowns.   
   
That dream had been beautiful and peaceful. It had left her happy for weeks afterward. It was nothing like the dream she had just experienced. This dream was similar to the others in that there were two girls with pale blond hair but they were teenagers. The feeling of the dream was so very oppressive and she had been frightened for the two girls. They were under some sort of threat but now that she was awake she did not know whom had threatened them or how to save them.   
   
That the teenage girls must be older versions of the younger girls whom had played in the garden, Narcissa did not question. She was positive they were supposed to be the same girls. Why was she dreaming of those girls? It was a thing not talked about in the Rosier family that they had a little bit of seer blood. It was never enough to be truly useful so it was something they usually kept silent about. Narcissa had inherited the blood through her mother Druella. It had been no more helpful to Narcissa than it had to her other Rosier relatives. Her cousin, Livia Rosier, had told her once that she was suffering from strange dreams and then a few months later she was killed in an Auror Raid upon her parent’s home. The poor girl was just fifteen. The dreams had not really helped Livia avoid death and Narcissa doubted that her dreams would help her.  
   
She sighed softly and resigned herself to knowing that she would not get back to sleep anytime soon. “Miffy.” She called out to her House-Elf.  
   
A moment later there was the soft sound of her House-Elf apparating to her side. “Mistress should be sleeping.” The House-Elf scolded lightly as it came to the side of the bed to peer up at Narcissa.  
   
Narcissa nodded. “Yes, but my dreams will not leave me any rest.” She admitted to her childhood companion. Miffy had been assigned to take care of her when she was an infant. The House-Elf had been a wedding gift from Lord Black. He had performed the ceremony that would make Miffy bound to her and no longer to the House of Black. It was a great significance that most of her fellow Pure-blood’s overlooked. She imagined that Lord Black would have bestowed Nym upon Andromeda had she not eloped with a man deemed unfit by Lord Black.  
   
“Old Mistress Druella had strange dreams while she was pregnant with you she did.” Miffy said knowingly.  
   
Narcissa blinked in surprise. For the first time she truly appreciated that Miffy was far older than she looked. Miffy had tended to her as an infant, but Narcissa had never thought about the fact that Miffy had been there tending to Druella while her mother had been pregnant with her.  
   
“Did she ever mention what the dreams were about?” She asked of Miffy.  
   
Miffy nodded. “Only a few times.” The House-Elf admitted. “She knew that your hair would be blond, Mistress Cissy.” She told her. “She was proud of your hair she was. She liked that you took after her blood enough to have their blond hair.”  
   
Narcissa knew this already for her mother had mentioned it many times during her childhood. “She knew before I was born? She dreamt it?”  
   
Miffy nodded her head. “Yes. Mistress Druella dreamt that you would have blond hair. She also knew that you would one day marry Mister Lucius Malfoy. She saw it in her dreams while she carried you.”  
   
“Lucius?” She asked and nearly choked on the name. She had not seen her husband in months. Not since that fateful conversation in August where he had shown her the way he had given himself over to be branded by the wizard he so admired. She felt close to tears just thinking of Lucius.  
   
“Yes Mistress.” Miffy said. “Mistress Druella saw that you would wed Mister Lucius and that you would one day be Lady Malfoy.”   
   
“Do you know anything else that she may have dreamt?” She asked.  
   
Miffy shook her head. “I am sorry Mistress, but that was all I ever heard of Mistress Druella’s dreams.”  
   
Narcissa nodded her head in understanding. Though disappointed she did not blame the House-Elf. She knew that her mother’s voicing of those two dreams was harmless. It could be taken as the wishes of a mother eager for their daughter to resemble them or for their daughter to marry illustriously well. Any other dreams may be too dangerous to give voice.  
   
Some things could not be voiced, should not be voiced. Like the thought that had lodged itself in her mind and had refused to be removed. Lucius no longer loved her. Maybe he had never loved her as dearly as she loved him?  
   
She turned her gaze away from Miffy and gripped the sheets in her fists fighting the urge to weep. She would not cry. She would not lose herself to grief. Everything she had done, she had done it for Lucius and for herself. She had wanted to be a mother. She had wanted to give him a child, preferably a son to be the Malfoy Heir. Yet if Lucius did not truly love her as she had thought, then all of this, her desperation to remain by his side would have been for nothing.  
   
She gasped suddenly as she felt something spasm within her. She fought to take a deep and calming breath. She was overly emotional and getting far too excited. She needed to calm down for the sake of the baby. She practiced the breaths that Healer Hawthorne had taught her over the course of the last few months and felt herself restoring her equilibrium. She ignored Miffy’s murmurs and other distressing sounds of worry. She focused her concentration upon her magical core and found the thread of the baby’s magic that was attached to her own. She sent soothing, gentle pulses down that thread in order to calm the baby.   
   
It was well known that Witches were more vulnerable while they were pregnant. It was not simply due to their expanding girth and new distribution of balance. It was mostly due to the fact that their magical core was compromised sustaining the child. A mother could communicate subtly with the child while it was still in the womb in a manner in which Narcissa was doing now. It was advised for Witches to do very mundane magic only during pregnancy. In Narcissa’s case she had been ordered to perform no feats of magic due to the many miscarriages she had suffered in the past. She had obeyed the Healer’s rules to the letter. She would not risk this child; she would never again get a chance to become pregnant again.  
   
She would be barren upon giving birth to this child. She did not know how she knew, but she knew it as surely as she knew that her hair color was blonde. She knew that this was her last chance to secure her place by Lucius’ side.  
   
Her last chance to be a mother of a child of her birthing.  
   
Even if she no longer hand Lucius’ love, she longed for this child. Her mind flashed once more to her dreams, to the image of two little girls creating flower crowns in the gardens. Her lips curved into a sad parody of a smile. It was a beautiful image and it would have been wonderful to have had twin daughters after she had given birth to the Malfoy Heir, but of course she could not have those little girls. There was no indication that she was carrying twins and in any case she knew that Lucius wanted a son, not a daughter.   
   
“Mistress Cissy.” Miffy said with worry. “I’s be getting Healer Hawthy.”   
   
Narcissa barely registered Miffy’s words as the House-Elf apparated out of the room. The House-Elf was gone before she could verbalize the words to stop her. Narcissa frowned at that but then decided that perhaps it would be best to let Rachel Hawthorne check on her, just to make sure that everything was well.   
   
Healer Hawthorne was at the door five minutes later dressed in a pair of black slacks and a casual muggle top with short sleeves made out of cotton. Her favorite brown leather medical bag was in hand as she strode into the room with Miffy following.   
   
“Forgive the intrusion, Narcissa, but Miffy was quite insistent that you were in a bad way.” The Healer spoke as she came closer to the bed. She swiftly slid set her bag down and then she cast a spell over her hands to sterilize them for examining Narcissa.  
   
“It is quite alright. Miffy was quite concerned.” Narcissa said and smiled gently to her House-Elf. “Better safe.” She added as an afterthought. It was one of the Healer’s favorite sayings, or at least it seemed that way to Narcissa.  
   
The Healer smiled even as she instructed Narcissa to lie back against her pillows. Narcissa settled against the pile of pillows and surrendered herself to the inspection by Healer Hawthorne. Narcissa felt the slightest touch of the Healer’s magic checking her over and then it’s swift withdrawal.  
   
“Tell me Narcissa, have you been experiencing lower back pain or abdominal pain?” She asked as she gently inched up Narcissa’s night gown in order to run a hand over the swell of her abdomen.  
   
“It was an abdominal cramp, a hard one, that shocked me a few moments before Miffy went to fetch you.” Narcissa admitted easily. “Though for the last few nights I have experienced lower back pain.” She also admitted.  
   
“I see. Any bleeding?” The Healer asked and backtracked when Narcissa paled. “Forgive me. I meant spotting. Has there been any brownish or red discharge?”  
   
Narcissa shook her head in the negative.  
   
“Miffy said your sleep was disrupted.” The healer said. “Was it due to feelings of pain in your back or your abdominal area?”  
   
“I am not sure.” Narcissa admitted. “I was having strange dreams. I awoke in discomfort but that has been common enough in the last few months as the child has grown bigger.”  
   
The Healer nodded in thought and stepped back. “I would like to remain with you throughout the rest of the day Narcissa.” She said in the tone of voice that Narcissa had grown to call her professional mien. “If what I believe is true, then you are showing signs of being in the Latent Phase of Labor.”  
   
“Labor?” Narcissa gasped out in surprise. She thought she would still have a few more weeks to a month before the babe would arrive.  
   
“Yes.” The Healer confirmed. “Do not worry. The baby is ready.” She promised Narcissa. “The baby is fully formed and will be able to live without you to sustain it.”  
   
Narcissa took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you. I…my emotions, I am not used to being this out of control. I am nervous, anxious, excited, frightened.”  
   
“I understand.” Rachel Hawthorne said with a small smile. “I am right here with you; I will not let you down.” She promised.  
   
Narcissa nodded and then she smiled as Miffy made efforts to ensure that Healer Hawthorne was made comfortable on the sofa of Narcissa’s bedroom suite. Narcissa remained in the bed and let herself marvel over the fact that she might hold her child by the end of the day.   
   
Hours passed in light conversation. Narcissa suffered more abdominal cramps that would come and then go leaving her frustrated that the cramps could not be considered close enough together for them to predict. She was sure she would get through them better if she could just predict when one might occur.  
   
It was just after noon and Miffy had gone down to the kitchens to fetch them some lunch when Narcissa felt her water break. At first she feared that she had wet herself but she swiftly realized that in fact her water had broken and she alerted Healer Hawthorne.  
   
Rachel was at her side in an instant and nodded her head. She cast a spell to clean Narcissa and then the sheets so that Narcissa would not have to lie in the soiled sheets. “Lady Malfoy, I think it might be best if we sent a summons to Lord Malfoy and Mister Malfoy that your water has broken and that you will most likely give birth today.”  
   
Narcissa nodded her head in agreement. “We won’t bother with letters. We shall send House-Elves.”  
   
“Miffy” She called after a moment’s thought and then added. “Dandy.”  
   
Two House-Elves appeared before her. Miffy wrung her hands and began to explain in a rush. “Mistress Cissy, the cook is almost ready with preparing lunch.”  
   
“Never mind that.” Narcissa said in a rush. “Miffy, I need you to go to my father-in-law. You must tell him that my water has broken and that the Healer is sure that I will give birth today.”  
   
Miffy’s eyes got impossibly larger and she smiled before apparating away to obey Narcissa’s wishes.   
   
“Dandy.” She said addressing the other House-Elf. “I need you to find my husband Heir Malfoy. You must tell him that my water has broken and that today he shall be a father. I ask that he come to me.”  
   
The House-Elf nodded. “Dandy will do at once gracious Lady Cissy.”  
   
Narcissa smiled as the House-Elf apparated away. She looked then to Rachel Hawthorne who had called her own House-Elf and was ordering the creature about. She did not catch what Hawthorne was telling the creature since her voice was speaking softly to the little being, but she could tell it had to do with ensuring the safety of her person and of the child so Narcissa did not think to interfere by asking senseless questions.  
   
She was surprised when a few minutes later Miffy appeared once more in the room. “Mistress Cissy, Lord Malfoy sends his fond felicitations and he promises to come to White Hall just as soon as he finishes his current business.”  
   
Narcissa blinked in surprise. Abraxas was going to come to White Hall and see her? He had not visited her the entire time she had been living in White Hall, though he had sent her plenty of gifts while she had been living away from Malfoy Manor. Each gift had been thoughtful, and Narcissa could believe that he had taken great time and care deliberating over each gift before he chose to send them. His gifts had been thoughtful. Lucius’ gifts had been placating.  
   
She shook the thought away with firm resolve. She was giving birth to Lucius’ son. Surely with the birth of his son he would remember once again how much he had loved her. He must!  
   
Just as she had finished that train of thought Dandy appeared before her and bowed his head. “Mistress Cissy, I found Mister Lucius but he refuses to come to you.”  
   
“What?” Narcissa asked in shock. How could Lucius refuse to come to her when she was giving birth to his child?  
   
Dandy wrung his hands before him as he spoke. “I’s told Mister Lucius that you were having the birthing pains and that you needed him to come to you but he refused. He said,” Dandy paused for a moment and his large ears were turned down as though in shame. “He said that you should call for him again when you can present him with his son and heir.”  
   
Narcissa felt as though she had been struck. Tears stung her eyes and instantly spilled over. She was vaguely aware of Miffy and Dandy worrying over her and of Healer Hawthorne swearing under her breath but Narcissa paid them little mind. Grief assailed her. She had lost Lucius. She was sure of it now. She had truly lost him. She would give birth to her child and in doing so become firmly entrenched as his wife, but she had somehow lost him. “Lucius.” She whimpered as she once more felt pain in her abdomen.  
   
Healer Hawthorne noticed the signs of physical pain and came to her side immediately. “Easy Narcissa,” The Healer said in that calm tone of voice meant to soothe her. “That’s it, breathe through it, do not hold your breath.” She instructed.  
   
Narcissa focused on her breathing and tried to concentrate once more on her magical core in order to feel the thread that would allow her to soothe her child. The thread seemed somehow smaller now. The thought made her panic. “The thread…” She began.  
   
“It is thinner, yes?” Healer Hawthorne asked of Narcissa who nodded in response. “That is good. This is normal, Narcissa. Everything with the labor is going just fine. The thread is beginning to fray. In a few more hours you will not be able to find the thread because it will continue to fray until it finally snaps away altogether. Then the labor will speed up significantly.”  
   
Narcissa nodded. Yes of course, Healer Hawthorne had explained this to her before but in her panic she had not been able to focus on anything but her fear. “Thank you.” She told the Healer.  
   
Hawthorne smiled at her. “I will not leave you to suffer.” She promised Narcissa. “Well, aside from the labor. I am afraid that is mostly on you. I can coach you through it and deliver the babe but I cannot do it for you.”  
   
Narcissa laughed then. “If Witches could find a way for other creatures to bear the burden of labor for them, they would have assigned it to House-Elves a long time ago.”  
   
   
Hawthorne’s lips twitched in amusement. “True. It does seem that some Wizards and Witches are a bit disrespectful to House-Elves.”  
   
Narcissa’s own lips twitched at that. She knew that the Healer was trying to distract her. She allowed the distraction. “Yes. Lucius and I have fought a few times over House-Elves. He feels that I treat the Malfoy Elves too well.”  
   
“Truly?” Hawthorne asked.  
   
Narcissa nodded, allowing herself to be lured into the conversation. “Yes. He is quite abominable to them.” She admitted to the Healer. “I was taught to treat them with more respect and really the House-Elves at Malfoy Manor are truly some of the most efficient that I have ever seen. They keep the house immaculate, make marvelous meals, and take great joy in their work. They really do deserve some praise every now and then. Lucius believes that praising them will make them deficient.”   
   
Hawthorne snorted at that. “Has it made them deficient?”  
   
Narcissa laughed. “No. Or at least I have not found it so.” She admitted. “They have been very kind to me, not just polite as is expected of them, but kind.”  
   
“Will you teach your child to be nice to the House-Elves?” Hawthorne asked keeping the conversation going and Narcissa distracted.  
   
“Oh yes.” Narcissa said easily. “My child will learn that servants need to be treated respectfully. I never understood the other great families who treated their servants poorly. House-Elves are the keepers of our food, our homes, and our secrets. Why would you treat poorly a creature who works so diligently for you and knows so much about what is going on in your home? Would you not want their loyalty instead?”  
   
Hawthorne blinked. “I had not thought of it from such an angle.”  
   
“Yet you are kind to your House-Elf.” Narcissa pointed out.  
   
Hawthorne nodded. “Yes, but that is the Healer’s nature in me. I am mostly kind to everyone.”  
   
“Mistress Cissy, Lord Malfoy,” Her House-Elf Dreny announced. “He is here.”  
   
Narcissa glanced at Healer Hawthorne in question.  
   
“It is up to you Narcissa.” The Healer admitted. “Tradition states that the Lord of the House should be present at the birth if possible, but if you do not want him in the room we can leave the door to your sitting room open so that he can at least hear some of what is transpiring.”  
   
“No, I,” Narcissa paused to give herself a moment to truly think it over. “I need him to be here. He is the Head of House Malfoy.”  
   
“Very well.” Hawthorne said and then smiled at Dreny. “Please escort Lord Malfoy here on behalf of your mistress and do apologize to him for keeping him waiting.”  
   
“Yes, right away.” Dreny said and then he hurried from the room.  
   
“I should send Miffy to my parents.” Narcissa realized. “They too should be here for the birth, to represent the House of Black.”  
   
Hawthorne nodded in agreement. “I was going to wait until your thread to the child had frayed more, but since Lord Malfoy is here it would be for the best to send Miffy or Dandy now.”  
   
“Miffy, would you go to my father and inform him that I am in labor and ask him to come to White Hall at his earliest convenience. Assure him that all is going well and that I am only in the early stages of labor at present.” Narcissa told the House-Elf.  
   
“Yes Mistress Cissy, at once.” Miffy said and then she apparated away.  
   
Dandy moved forward to Narcissa’s side then. “Can Dandy get anything for Mistress?”  
   
“A glass of water please.” She asked of the House-Elf.  
   
Dandy hurried out of the room and a few moments later Dreny came into the room leading Lord Abraxas Malfoy. The man took one look at Narcissa on the bed and he smiled at her. “Is the pain unbearable yet?” He asked without preamble.  
   
“Not yet, my lord.” She said in answer. “It is early stages yet.”  
   
Abraxas nodded even as he came to the side of her bed and then he sat upon it and reached for her hand. When it was clasped in his own he gave it a gentle squeeze. “You are doing well and listening to your healer?” He asked with a strangely gentle tone of voice.  
   
It was strange because Narcissa was not used to such gentleness from Abraxas Malfoy. “Yes, I am listening to the Healer.” She promised him.  
   
“Very good. Now where is Lucius?” He asked and then looked at her with curiosity when her eyes became glassy with tears.  
   
Narcissa used a ruthless will to keep from crying. “He sent word that he could not or would not come and I was to send for him again when I could present him with his son.”  
   
Abraxas cursed beneath his breath. “I ask your pardon, Narcissa.” He said and squeezed her hand gently. “Lucius, he has,” He paused for a moment to reign in his emotions. “I did not raise him to turn his back on his family.”  
   
Narcissa looked surprised then and she whispered softly. “You know what he bears on his arm? You have seen it?”  
   
Abraxas gave her a curt nod in response.  
   
“I have not seen Lucius since August.” She confided in her father-in-law. “He sent me gifts and his apologies, excuses. He did not want to see me. I was no longer important.”  
   
The Healer frowned at that but kept her silence. She knew better than to speak up now. Despite having grown close to her patient, there was still a great deal about Narcissa Malfoy and her relationships that Rachel Hawthorne did not know anything about. The relationship between Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy was one of them.  
   
“He lied to me about his whereabouts then, for he told me often that he was going to White Hall to visit you in the last few months.” Abraxas informed her.  
   
Narcissa sucked in a breath at the jolt of pain in her abdomen. She gripped Abraxas’ hand tightly and tried to breathe through it as Hawthorne had taught her. Hawthorne was at her other side holding her other hand to help center her. When it was over she relaxed and sought again her magical core.  
   
“It’s smaller now, almost gone.” She admitted to Hawthorne.  
   
“What is smaller?” Abraxas asked.  
   
“The thread of the child attached to her magical core.” Hawthorne politely explained to Lord Malfoy. “When that thread is no longer attached to her magical core then it will not be long thereafter that the labor pains will begin in earnest.”  
   
“I see.” Abraxas frowned in thought.  
   
Hawthorne took up the glass of ice water that Dandy had returned with and gently handed it to Narcissa. “Here, Dandy returned with this a few moments ago.”  
   
Narcissa nodded and took a drink of the soothing liquid. “Thank you.” She said even as Hawthorne took the glass from her.  
   
Two hours later Narcissa’s parents arrived. Cygnus Black III, a handsome man with black hair laced with silver and blue-gray eyes chose to hover in the doorway but made no attempt to move to his daughter’s bedside. Druella Black nee Rosier had no such qualms. She moved to Narcissa’s side and took the place that Lord Black willingly vacated for her.  
   
Druella’s golden-blonde hair was held up in a simple but elegant bun. She was dressed in a skirt and matching jacket of dark blue velvet. At Narcissa’s glance at her clothes she smiled. “I was at a meeting for raising funds for Magical Children’s orphanage when your Miffy found me.” She told her daughter even as she took the gloves off of her hands and gently ran fingers through Narcissa’s sweaty blonde hair. “I did not want to take the time to change.”  
   
Narcissa smiled at her mother. “Thank you for coming so swiftly mother.”  
   
“Has the chord frayed completely yet?” Druella asked.  
   
“Not yet, but it seems to be close.” Hawthorne told her charges mother. “Narcissa has been doing really well.”  
   
Druella stayed beside Narcissa and told her stories of her childhood as the sun set and Dandy lit candles about the room. It was Samhain and it was a day of remembrance. Narcissa had hoped that she would take part in the day of remembrance but instead she was confined to her bed laboring to give life rather than death. Was that why it was taking so long? Could it be because it was the day of remembering those who were dead?  
   
It was a morbid thought, one that Narcissa fought to banish as the night wore on.   
   
It was nearing ten in the evening when she felt the frayed chord within her snap. She cried out in pain and felt a wave of despair. She felt the firm grip of her mother’s hand gripping her own and she squeezed back.  
   
“It is alright Narcissa.” Hawthorne coaxed her. “The chord snapped and you felt despair, but that is normal.” She promised.  
   
The contractions became harder, more relentless after that. Narcissa would never remember the exact details of those remaining hours of labor. Her world became a center of pressure and pain. It felt as though magic was lashing at her from within her own body as she strove to bring the child forth. She felt hollowed and hurt, missing the connection with her child that she had sustained for nine months. She mechanically followed the instructions of the Healer, unable to do anything else.  
   
Clarity returned when she heard the sharp cry of an infant. Narcissa blinked as if coming out of sleep and stared sharply at Healer Hawthorne as the healer placed the babe in a blanket and handed it to Druella Black.  
   
“Mother, is it a boy or a girl?” She asked of her mother whom had turned away to the station that had been set up with a small tub of water to be used to clean the babe.  
   
“Easy Narcissa.” Hawthorne responded to her entreaty. “You are not finished yet. We still need to rid you of the placenta.”   
   
Narcissa nodded her obedience but her eyes kept straying to her mother’s back where she stood cleaning the baby. “I just want to know.”  
   
Hawthorne gave her a smile full of pity. “It is a girl Narcissa, a healthy girl.” She promised.  
   
A girl.  
   
Not a male heir.  
   
It took a few moments for Narcissa to wrap her head around the idea. A beautiful daughter instead of a beautiful son. She was pulled from her thoughts when a contraction gripped her. She gasped with the pain, once more feeling as though magic was lashing her from deep within.  
   
Druella looked back toward the bed then while still holding her granddaughter. “Is she?”  
   
“I think she is.” Hawthorne said with some surprise coloring her tone. “Push Narcissa.” She insisted.  
   
Narcissa obeyed. She heard the clock chime midnight as she pushed again. A few minutes later she felt the release of pressure from deep within.  
   
Another baby’s cry rang throughout the room and Healer Hawthorne smiled brightly at Narcissa. “Lady Malfoy, you have another healthy baby girl.”  
   
“Twins.” Narcissa whispered in awe as she stared at the child covered in blood and mucus that was held in Healer Hawthorne’s arms. She closed her eyes for a moment and thought of little blond haired girls making crowns out of flowers.  
   
Narcissa paid no more attention to what was going on around her until Druella came to her with the first child. “Your first born.” Her mother said gently and Narcissa was then allowed to hold her first born daughter. “Lyra.” She said softly as she stared down at the baby. Her daughter was beautiful, simply beautiful. She held Lyra for a few more minutes but reluctantly allowed Druella to take her back when Healer Hawthorne brought her the second born.   
   
Narcissa smiled down at the second child. “Arya.” She said softly naming the baby. “You and your sister played a terrible trick on me.” She informed Arya. “I had no idea that I was carrying two of you. You hid well from Healer Hawthorne’s scans.”  
   
“How could that be?” Druella asked the question aloud. “I have never heard of such a thing.”  
   
“It is quite unusual.” Hawthorne agreed. “I have been the healer present for many twin pregnancies and births but never before was I unable to detect that it was twins.”  
   
“My children are strong.” Narcissa said simply refusing to believe anything else.  
   
Hawthorne smiled. “They are indeed to have given you such a long labor.” She told Narcissa. “Now, let us get you cleaned up a bit and then Lord Malfoy and Mr. Black may come in.”  
   
Druella had made both men wait in the sitting room once the heavy labor had begun. Neither man had given a protest, though Lord Malfoy had insisted that the door be left open. He had been obeyed.  
   
Druella cast a cleaning charm on Narcissa to rid her of the sweat and filth of giving birth. She then cast freshening charms upon Narcissa’s nightgown to make her more presentable. Reluctantly Druella placed Lyra into the crook of Narcissa’s arm so that Narcissa was holding both babies.  
   
Narcissa smiled at her mother and then looked to the Healer. “Healer Hawthorne, if you would please collect my father and Lord Malfoy?”  
   
“With pleasure.” The healer said and then she strode out of the room into the sitting room. A few moments later Lord Abraxas Malfoy and Mr. Cygnus Black III entered the room.  
   
“My Lord Malfoy,” Narcissa began formally. “May I present you with your granddaughters.”  
   
Abraxas nodded and then strode to the right side of the bed. He watched carefully as Druella picked up the baby held cradled in Narcissa’s right arm.   
   
“This is Lyra, the first born.” Narcissa said as Druella placed the little girl into his arms.  
   
“Lyra Malfoy.” He murmured as he looked down on the child. Her eyes opened to stare up at him as though she understood him. “A fine name.” He said as he handed the child back to Druella.  
   
Druella then took the child to her own husband so that he could greet his granddaughter.   
   
“This is Arya, the second born.” Narcissa said as she handed him the child she had cradled with her left arm.  
   
Abraxas smiled at the sleepy child and nodded his head to Narcissa. “A beautiful child, both of them are beautiful.” He murmured gently so as not to disturb the sleeping child. “Arya is a fine name.” He told Narcissa. “Arya Malfoy.”  
   
“We do not know how it was that twins were not detected.” Narcissa admitted.  
   
“It has happened before in the Malfoy family but it was a very long time ago.” Abraxas told her. “Do not think on it now. When you are well and returned to Malfoy Manor, I will locate the diary that contains the account for you to read at your leisure.”  
   
“Thank you.” Narcissa said in surprised pleasure. He had never before offered her true insight into the Malfoy family in that way. Could it be that her father-in-law had missed her while she had been away?  
   
“Rest now Narcissa.” He ordered her. “You have earned it. Worry not for the girls, Cygnus and I would not let any harm come to our granddaughters.”  
   
Narcissa did not really wish to go to sleep but she felt so wrung out that she found herself nodding in obedience. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of Lucius and how disappointed he would be that she had birthed two daughters but not the male heir he wanted. The male heir he wanted to present one day to his Lord Voldemort, his Master Voldemort. She flinched with the thought and tried to get more comfortable. Let Lucius be disappointed; her daughters were beautiful.


	8. Sigil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoy Heiresses are recognized by the Magical Community.

Sigil  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England  
December 1980

  
   
Narcissa fought to hold her perfect and polished social mask together as she watched the people milling about the grand ballroom of Malfoy Manor. Today was a special day, her daughters Naming Day. The ceremony had been held just hours before outside on the grounds. With many of society’s greatest powers watching, her daughters had been officially recognized as Heiresses of House Malfoy. She had been forced to stand stoically, with a fake smile pasted upon her face as she had watched Abraxas Malfoy invoke an ancient magical rite that would sear a blood tattoo upon each of her daughter’s flesh.  
   
The blood tattoo was better known in society as a Sigil. The practice of marking ones’ children with Sigil’s was an ancient one and many in the modern day thought it archaic and barbaric. It was an outdated practice and it was nearly unheard of today for a family to put a child through such an ordeal. Especially a female infant.  
   
Narcissa was angry about the Sigil. She had not been informed that Abraxas intended to mark her daughters. She was just as shocked as the rest of the crowd of witnesses and well-wishers. Still she had known she should not fight him before all of those people. She had forced a smile to remain on her lips, one that had faltered as her daughters had screamed. It had been an agony hearing her precious babies scream, watching them writhe even as strong and ancient magic seemed to etch the image of their Sigils into their flesh, and being unable to go to them and stop their pain.  
   
When the ceremony had ended there had been many wishes of congratulations. Lucius had taken her hand and insisted that she accompany him within to play the part of proud mother and happy hostess. His unvoiced message was quite clear. He believed her place was beside him and not hovering over the crib of worthless daughters. The thought brought the sting of tears. When Lucius had finally arrived at White Hall to acknowledge his daughters he had been furious with Narcissa for not only birthing daughters but for becoming barren in the process. She had been nearly barren before. She dared not tell him of the dark magic potion she had begged Severus to brew for her, the one that ensured her pregnancy with her twin daughters. Lucius would just be angry that she had gone to such measures and still managed only daughters and not the sons he longed for. He had yelled at her for shaming him with daughters when he had promised his precious Dark Lord a son.  
   
Unable to stand another moment in the same room with Lucius, she moved past a few party-goers and slipped out of the ballroom. She traveled the well-known corridors until she reached the nursery. She was surprised to find Abraxas Malfoy standing beside the baby’s crib. In his arms was Lyra and he was rocking her soothingly back and forth.  
   
“You should be enjoying the party Narcissa.” Abraxas said softly. “Is this not a day of triumph for you? You have cemented your place once and for all as Lucius’ wife.”  
   
Narcissa frowned at him. “I am their mother, I have more right than any to be here.” She said stiffly even as she moved to the crib to look down at Arya. Her second born seemed to be sleeping peacefully. At the moment she was swaddled only in a diaper, the better to let the new Sigil have time to breath. She examined the Sigil taking in the rich detail of what looked to be a sword encased in rose vines complete with thorns. At the moment the white roses were baby buds but if what little she had learned of Sigil’s was true then as Arya aged they would become full blooming roses.  
   
“They needed protection.” Abraxas said cutting to the true heart of her disturbed emotions. “No Malfoy child has been put through that pain in hundreds of years.” He informed her.  
   
Narcissa gripped the edge of the crib and fought to keep her tears from falling. “Lucius does not bear a Sigil.” She said softly. She would know of course; she had often seen Lucius without a stitch of clothing to cover his glorious body. How could someone so physically beautiful be so cruel?  
   
“Nor do I.” Abraxas told her. “What I have done, is effectively made Lyra and Arya more entitled to the Malfoy estates and properties than Lucius.” He told her. “Oh, I do not think the men and women who witnessed today know that little tidbit. Magic is a tool for most. Few understand that we are vessels. We can channel magic, funnel it into our own purposes; but it is pulsing, alive, and it does not need us. We need it.”  
   
“Why did you do this?” She asked as her hand reached out to gently touch the Sigil over Lyra’s back. Again a sword of gleaming steel was covered in rose vines with thorns. The rose buds were red unlike Arya’s white.   
   
“Protection.” Abraxas said once again. “Your healer has said you are barren and will have no more children. These two are the future of my House. Their own father may very well prove the greatest of dangers to them.” He said pinning her to the spot with sharp pale blue eyes. “I took a risk and it paid off Narcissa. They cannot be marked by Lord Voldemort now unless they willingly with their whole hearts give themselves over to him.”  
   
Narcissa frowned at that, her mind playing over what she knew about Sigils. She knew too little. In the future she would remedy that. “Because the Malfoy family magics found them worthy?”  
   
“Yes.” Abraxas nodded his head. He slowly lowered Lyra down into the crib with her sister and then he turned away from the crib and forcefully but gently turned Narcissa away from her little girls. “They will be safe here. Your Miffy shall watch over them along with my Dresden.”  
   
It was only then that Narcissa noticed the soft spoken but dapper House-Elf standing in the corner. Dresden was the personal House-Elf of Abraxas in the way that Miffy was hers and Knobby was Lucius’.  
   
She did not wish to go with him. She wanted to remain with her daughters. It was with great reluctance that she permitted herself to be led away from the nursery and back to the party revelers. Upon entering the room on the arm of her father-in-law the Minister of Magic Madam Millicent Bagnold approached them.  
   
“Congratulations Lord Malfoy on such upstanding Granddaughters.” The Minister of Magic, Madam Millicent Bagnold, praised. “I have been informed by a few of the more learned men and women amongst your guests that if the children had been found lacking then they would have died.” She said it gravely. “You took quite the risk.”  
   
“It was no risk when I knew that my granddaughters were such extraordinary creatures.” Abraxas said in a tone full of proud arrogance.  
   
Narcissa wanted to hit him but remained still at his side, a polite smile curving at the corners of her lips.   
   
Madam Bagnold let loose a laugh at that. “Ah the pride of a grandfather.” She said with a smile and then looked to Narcissa. “Congratulations Lady Malfoy. You really do have extraordinary daughters. They had to be quite powerful to have survived being judged and marked with a Sigil at such a young age.”  
   
“Thank you Madam Bagnold.” Narcissa said in return. “I hope that I shall be able to raise my little girls to be a great compliment and betterment to society.”  
   
Madam Bagnold studied her for a moment and smiled genuinely. It softened the woman’s hazel eyes and eased the lines around her mouth that years of worrying over matters large and small had etched there. “Yes, yes I believe that you do. I do hope that you succeed Lady Malfoy.” She said.  
   
“I..” Narcissa was rarely at a loss for what to say but this was most certainly one of those times. “Thank you Madam. Pray excuse me. I see my mother speaking with my aunt Cassiopeia. They are signaling me over.”  
   
Madam Bagnold merely nodded and then began to engage Abraxas in a conversation about the latest bill being put before the Wizengamot. Narcissa was only too happy to escape, even if it meant spending a few moments with her mother and her aunt.  
   
She was fond of her Great-Aunt Cassiopeia Black. The woman had never married, had in fact refused several offers of marriage. There were many rumors as to why. Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa used to debate about which rumors were truth when they were silly teenagers.   
   
Bellatrix had believed the rumors that Cassiopeia had a female lover and so she had refused to marry. That there was no evidence of such a lover never deterred Bellatrix from her belief.  
   
Andromeda believed that Cassiopeia liked her own power too much to risk giving her hand in marriage to a man. For a time Narcissa had wondered if Andromeda would go the same route, but that was before Andromeda had fallen in love with the boisterous and kind Hufflepuff, Edward Tonks.  
   
Narcissa believed that Cassiopeia had once loved greatly and had lost that love. Black’s were true to their loves, if they did love. Ever a romantic, Narcissa wanted to believe that Cassiopeia had suffered a tragic romance and now she waited to join her beloved in the hereafter. It was a beautiful sentiment in any case.  
   
Narcissa still did not know if any of the rumors were true or false. She did know that Cassiopeia Black was a formidable witch. She wished that she was half the witch that Cassiopeia was. She greeted her mother with a kiss to the cheek and then greeted Cassiopeia with the same.  
   
“Congratulations ‘Cissa.” The black and silver haired Cassiopeia Black said to her. The woman was still a beauty even with the age lines at her eyes and mouth and the silver in her hair. She had a willowy figure that was currently encased in form fitting robes of navy-blue silk brocade. Her customary fire opals adorned her right wrist, her ears and her throat.  
   
“Thank you.” Narcissa said with a genuine smile.  
   
“I am sure that they shall be beautiful little girls. I had hoped that your child might have the black hair of your birth house, but then that was a pointless hope. Your own hair is Rosier blond and you coupled with a Malfoy. With Malfoy stubbornness added to the mixture it is little wonder those babies have pale blond hair.” Cassiopeia proclaimed.  
   
Narcissa laughed. “They may yet have hair that is Rosier blond instead of Malfoy blond.”  
   
“Would you call Malfoy hair blond?” Cassiopeia asked then. She glanced pointedly toward Abraxas. “Silver or white seems to be what they sport.”  
   
Druella snickered from her place beside Cassiopeia. “Well the babies do not have silver hair so it might be white.”  
   
“All blond haired babies have pale blond locks when born.” Narcissa argued.  
   
“Your’s were a pale gold. Neither of your girls have pale gold locks. No ‘Cissa. They will be white haired or silver haired.” Druella informed her daughter with glee.  
   
Narcissa sighed and gave up the small hope that one of the girls might share her hair color. The girls showed far more signs of her facial features than that of Lucius. Healer Hawthorne had gently informed her that it was due to the fact that Lucius had refused to live with her during the pregnancy and how little he had visited her. Due to his lack of tender care, the babies had relied solely upon the magic of their mother and the magic around their mother in White Hall. Narcissa felt a sudden fierce pride at that thought. Her daughters would grow up looking like her, looking like members of House Black except for their coloring which was all Malfoy. Both girls were pale and would no doubt remain so. Both girls had the palest blond hair that would become pure white or a pale silver as they aged. It was too soon yet to tell for certain the shade of her daughters eyes. She believed that Lyra would have gray eyes but she had noticed subtle changes to Arya’s eyes over the last two days that made her believe the little girl might end up with the Malfoy ice-blue eyes.  
   
“They will be truly lovely.” Cassiopeia said and then scowled. “You will not let stuffy old Abraxas barter them off to the highest bidder will you?”  
   
Narcissa’s smile was vicious as she answered. “No. In fact, Abraxas has ensured that such a thing is impossible.”  
   
“How so?” Druella sniffed. “It seems to me that he has the power as their head of house to do as he pleases with them.” It had been a bone of contention for Druella that her own Head of House had forced her to wed Cygnus Black III against her will. Druella had been in love with a man from the House Flint and had wanted to marry him but instead she had been forced to wed Cygnus Black, a man that cared no more for her than she did for him.  
   
“The Sigil.” Cassiopeia answered softly as she stared first at Narcissa and then across the ballroom at Abraxas Malfoy. At Narcissa’s nod in confirmation Cassiopeia laughed. “Well, I am tempted to walk right up to that man and bestow a kiss upon his lips for doing right by your girls.”  
   
Narcissa could not fight the mental image of her aunt doing just that and laughed aloud. “Please dear aunt, do not let me keep you from showing my father-in-law your deep appreciation.” She said between giggles.  
   
Druella scowled at Narcissa finding her behavior before others utterly unbecoming.   
   
Cassiopeia smiled at Narcissa. “I need no further tempting.” She said and she got up from her seat only for Druella to suddenly grab her arm and pull back, stopping her from moving any further.  
   
“Cease this uncomely talk right now.” Druella said frowning. “Cassiopeia Black, you cannot walk right up to a man of Abraxas Malfoy’s worth and kiss him.”  
   
“Well certainly not so publically.” Narcissa giggled, still finding the idea of her great-aunt kissing her father-in-law to be quite amusing. She was sure that Abraxas would not know how to handle Cassiopeia. At least not a Cassiopeia Black who had decided to kiss him so publically. In her mental image of the event, Narcissa saw her father-in-law struggling to figure out just where to put his hands.  
   
“Perhaps you are right.” Cassiopeia said and a smile curved her lips as Druella relaxed beside her. “I will need a dark corridor instead.”  
   
Druella scowled darkly at Cassiopeia while Narcissa devolved again into a fit of giggles. 


	9. Astriction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius reflects on the last few months and gains a great surprise.

Astriction  
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England  
June 1981

  
   
Lucius scowled darkly at the correspondence before him on his desk as he thought over the last few months of his life. On Samhain Narcissa had given birth to twins but unfortunately the twins were female instead of male. Lucius had become a thing of ridicule amongst his fellow Death Eaters because of how he had bragged that he would have strong sons. He blamed Narcissa. She had miscarried his sons and had at long last given birth to healthy children but they were daughters. She was just not strong enough to give him sons. He saw that clearly now. Now he regretted not ending the marriage when he could have. It was impossible now. She had given birth to healthy children and furthermore those children had survived a judgement of magic when they had received their Sigils. No. Now it was impossible to be rid of Narcissa in favor of another woman who might bear him a son and heir.  
   
The Dark Lord had been disappointed that he had not fathered a son, but he had forgiven him. Daughters, the Dark Lord had said, served a purpose in that they would one day breed more soldiers for the great cause. The Dark Lord’s words had given Lucius some small comfort.  
   
He despised being near his daughters though. He could not stand to hear their cries and he refused to have much to do with them. Narcissa had wisely chosen to raise their daughters away from Malfoy Manor. Mother and daughters were living at White Hall. Though at present they were ensconced in Malfoy Manor due to his father’s desire to see his granddaughters.  
   
His father’s devotion to Lyra and Arya was a great surprise to Lucius. He had thought his father would share his disappointment in Narcissa’s inability to bear a son, yet thus far Abraxas had never shown himself to be anything but delighted with his granddaughters. The little witches seemed to have already entrapped his father under some sort of love spell. Lucius had to admit that he at times thought his little daughters to be quite lovely creatures, when they were well-behaved and not crying.  
   
When Narcissa had refused to stand beside his decision to serve the Dark Lord it had created a schism between them that grew more insurmountable with each day. In his anger at Narcissa for refusing to agree with him and support him in his service to his Lord he had thrown himself into service to Voldemort. During that service he had met a perfect partner, one who adored him and one who believed in Lord Voldemort. The two had become lovers and Lucius had chosen to spend more of his free time with her instead of visiting Narcissa at White Hall during her last trimester of pregnancy. Part of him felt guilty over his abandonment of Narcissa but he often fought the guilt back. She had abandoned him first by not supporting him. She had betrayed him first.  
   
It had been months since he had been able to visit his lover. He had sent Sabine many gifts to placate her growing ire at his absence. He had reminded her of the great work he was doing on behalf of their Lord. Reminders of the cause always soothed Sabine. He understood her predicament. She would never fully have him as her own, not while Narcissa lived. Twice Sabine had brought up the possibility of killing Narcissa and while Lucius had found the talk entertaining he had been forced to inform her that killing Narcissa would never bring them happiness. Narcissa’s family, the proud House of Black, would absolutely ruin Lucius if any harm ever came to Narcissa. It would not matter if Lucius were innocent or not, the Black’s would ruin him should Narcissa be severely harmed while she remained his wife. Sabine had to accept that killing Narcissa would be signing Lucius’ own death warrant and so she had given up ideas of murdering his wife. Her position as lover and only as lover was a hard one to bear and Lucius sympathized with her plight. He too wished that he could be rid of Narcissa in favor of Sabine.  
   
The sound of his personal House-Elf, Knobby, arguing with another Elf gained his attention and he arose from his desk. With the wave of his wand the door to his office opened and he heard the wailing of a child. He winced at the sharp cries and bit off a curse. Could Narcissa not keep the brats quiet? Perhaps a silencing charm would serve? Or would that be detrimental to the babies?  
   
“What is going on?” Lucius demanded to know as he stared at the strange scene before him.  
   
Knobby was holding a baby but trying to push it back into the arms of the other Elf who was refusing to touch it. “You cannot just shows up at Malfoy Manor and dump a baby here.” Knobby said shrilly to the other Elf.  
   
The other Elf wrung her hands together. “My mistress’ final words were for me to bring the baby to Malfoy Manor so that it’s father might care for her so I obeys my poor dead mistress.” Fat tears fell from the Elf’s eyes then.  
   
“Who is your mistress?” Lucius demanded of the Elf.  
   
“Mistress Sabine Benazai.” The Elf informed Lucius. “The baby is her child by the Malfoy Heir Lucius.”  
   
Lucius felt as though he had been kicked hard in the stomach. Sabine had been pregnant and he had not known? No wonder her letters had been so full of emotional pleading for him to come see her. His Sabine had not been a terribly emotion driven woman. He had thought it strange. Now he knew why her letters had been tinged with so much emotion and at times accusations that he did not love her.   
   
“I am Lucius Malfoy the Malfoy Heir.” Lucius managed to say to the Elf.  
   
The Elf nodded her head in a way that suggested she knew. She had no doubt seen him those times he had visited her mistress. “Mistress Sabine had a hard pregnancy.” The Elf managed to explain between her tears. “She did not survive the birthing. She bled out. Her last words were for her daughter to be taken to you for you to decide her fate.”  
   
Lucius felt the words settle over him and he glanced down at the child that Knobby held. He watched as Knobby tried to calm the baby girl down but his soothing tone did little to stop her shrill cries.   
   
A daughter. Another worthless daughter. Sabine had failed him twice. First by giving birth to a daughter and then by dying and leaving him alone without her. He felt hatred swell in his breast toward the woman that only half an hour before he had held in a higher regard than his own chosen wife.  
   
“What is this?” Came the voice of said wife and Lucius whirled to face Narcissa as she came down the stairs and into the hall. He knew he looked the picture of guilty husband as he stood frozen before her penetrating gaze. It struck him momentarily how beautiful her gray eyes were. So beautiful and mercurial were those eyes. She was slim once more having lost much of the baby weight. She had retained her great beauty despite carrying twins and having suffered miscarriages in the years before.   
   
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed as she looked from Lucius to the little baby held by Knobby and then she nodded once as though she had made some great decision. Lucius watched baffled as Narcissa picked up the child, taking her out of Knobby’s arms.   
   
“Hello gorgeous.” Narcissa whispered to the child and the child briefly stopped her shrill cries to stare at Narcissa. “Oh and look at you, vain as your father.” She murmured to the child. Lucius stiffened in offence but before he could open his mouth and say something he would regret Narcissa spoke again. “And such a clever father you have. He managed to find a way to give me another little child to love and dote upon didn’t he. Such a clever man.” She then raised her head and pierced him with a cold stare. “This is my newborn child, Lucius. See to it that your father is informed and that the society columns learn that there is yet a third daughter for the House of Malfoy.”  
   
Lucius found himself unable to do more than nod for a moment. Then the child began to cry again and Narcissa turned away with his newborn daughter but paused again and turned back to the House Elf that had brought the girl. “You there, you served her birthmother yes?”  
   
“Oh yes Lady.” The Elf said staring with wide green eyes up at Narcissa.  
   
“You are no longer bound?” She asked the Elf.  
   
The Elf began to sob then. “No, Merit is no longer bound.”  
   
“You will be now.” Narcissa said decisively. “You will be bound to your former Mistresses child. I am sure her soul will find some peace knowing that one of her servants was serving her child.”  
   
“Oh thank you. Thank you Lady!” Merit cried as it rushed forward and began placing kisses to the hem of Narcissa’s skirts.  
   
Narcissa nodded her head once, a regal gesture that Lucius had seen many times and each time it incited his blood to either lust or rage. This time he was shocked to realize he felt lust. He had not lusted for Narcissa since her betrayal of him and the Dark Lord’s cause.  
   
“Come along then.” Narcissa said and the little Elf fell into step behind her.  
   
“Cissa.” Lucius called up to her after she had reached the top of the stairs. He watched as she turned back to look at him in question.   
   
“What is our new daughter’s name?” He asked of her. “I will need to know it.”  
   
Narcissa looked down upon the screaming child for a few moments and then said simply. “Satyra. Satyra Lucretia Malfoy.” Then she turned away from him as if the sight of him disturbed her and he felt a lump in his throat as he watched her retreating back.  
   
He then turned to Knobby. “Please go speak to Dresden and see if Lord Malfoy might spare me half an hour of his time today.”  
   
“Yes, at once Master Lucius.” Knobby said and then he apparated away.  
   
Lucius returned to his study and once more sat at his desk. He frowned as he considered the changes that had befallen him in so short a time. At the beginning of his day he had thought himself in love with Sabine and out of love with Narcissa. Now he realized that was not quite true. He was not out of love with Narcissa. She still held a sway over his emotions, she still had power over him that it was dangerous for her to hold because she was the enemy. She had chosen to side against Lord Voldemort.  
   
He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it down upon his desk in aggravation. How could he still let Narcissa get under this skin and retain her hold on his heart? Why had his time with Sabine not eradicated her hold over him?   
   
Sabine. He had been quite happily swept up into the affair with the beautiful blonde haired Death Eater. She reminded him a bit of Narcissa but a Narcissa that would be properly devoted to the Dark Lord’s cause. Sabine and he had often talked of how they could better further the Dark Lord’s agenda. They were both quite good at anticipating the Dark Lord’s needs. It was what made them great servants. He would miss Sabine being by his side and serving their Lord with him. Sabine was a favorite of the Dark Lord’s. Bellatrix Lestrange resented her. Considering Bellatrix was Narcissa’s older sister Lucius had taken great joy in Bellatrix knowing about his affair with Sabine.  
   
He slowly stood from his desk to stare out at the garden that Narcissa had slaved over. ‘Bellatrix.’ He thought the name and shivered. The Elf named Merit had said that Sabine had bled out. Sabine had been a very healthy woman, yet he knew not how she had faired during the pregnancy. Was it possible that Bellatrix had ensured that Sabine died?  
   
A growl issued from deep in his throat at the thought. If he could ever prove that Bellatrix had insured Sabine’s death, then he would beg his Lord for the right of vengeance.  
   
He was pulled from these thoughts by the reappearance of his personal Elf. “Master Lucius, Lord Malfoy is able to sees you now.”  
   
Lucius nodded his head curtly and then marched from his study. He let his legs carry him to the western wing of the house where his father preferred to conduct his business. He paused before the large ornate English Oak doors of his father’s office and waited as Dresden marched within the announce him. Only when he heard his father’s encouragement to enter did Lucius enter Abraxas Malfoy’s inner sanctum.  
   
His father’s office had always served as an office and a study. Large Georgian windows stood behind his father’s desk and from floor to ceiling of the east wall were bookcases filled with books. “Father.” Lucius greeted the man seated behind the desk.  
   
“Lucius, I take it you have something of some urgency to discuss with me.” Abraxas said to him.  
   
Lucius nodded his head once and then he ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I took a lover during the time that Narcissa was pregnant.” He began his confession.  
   
“That is disappointing.” Abraxas murmured. “After all these years I had thought you would actually be faithful to your bride, Lucius.”  
   
Lucius felt a moment of shame but fought it back. Narcissa did not deserve fealty, not when she would turn away from the Dark Lord. “My lover became pregnant. I did not know until this day.”  
   
“Sloppy of you Lucius.” Abraxas snapped. “With all of the spells and potions out there that you could have used to ensure you did not get an illegitimate child out of the bargain you really have no excuse.” He sighed in disappointment. “When is the child due?”  
   
“The child has been born.” Lucius admitted. “The mother died in the birthing. Her final words were for the child to be brought to me so that I might decide her fate.”  
   
“Her?” Abraxas asked and stared hard at Lucius. “Another girl. If you were going to become a philanderer the least, you could have done was beget a son out of the awful mess.” He frowned at Lucius and then sighed in resignation. “Where is the child? We shall have to find a good family to place her with and preferably before Cissa finds out.”  
   
“Cissa knows.” Lucius muttered. “She heard the child crying and came to investigate. She insisted that I tell the world that she had given birth to another daughter for the House of Malfoy.” He admitted to his father. “She has named her Satyra Lucretia Malfoy.”  
   
Abraxas’ lips slowly curved upwards in surprise. “Is that so?” He asked but truly it was a rhetorical question and so Lucius said nothing in response. “Remarkable.” He murmured. “She keeps surprising me, your ‘Cissa.” He admitted to Lucius and his voice actually sounded fond as he admitted it.  
   
Lucius did not like the fond way in which his father spoke of his wife. What was it between Narcissa and Abraxas? He had noticed over the months the solicitous way that his father treated his wife. He had thought at first that it was merely his father enjoying being around his granddaughters, but now he wondered if Abraxas was enjoying Narcissa.  
   
“We shall have to put it out into the papers. Narcissa should write to the Black’s first and find some clever lie to spin to let them know that she was once again pregnant.” Abraxas said in a business-like manner. “I am sure that you can handle the announcement for the society pages.”  
   
“Of course father.” Lucius said. “Will you really let Narcissa raise the child?”  
   
Abraxas stared at him for a moment as if Lucius had gone mad. “Of course I shall.” He told Lucius. “Cissa’s little maneuver means that we do not have to hide the child at all.” He pointed out to Lucius. “It ensures that the child shall grow up a proper Malfoy in the bosom of the family.”  
   
Lucius nodded his head once to show he understood. “It is very gracious of ‘Cissa.” He admitted to his father. He did not admit that it was that very graciousness that he could not let himself dare to trust. “She has also taken on the House Elf Merit that had belonged to Satyra’s mother.”  
   
Abraxas nodded his head. “Good.” He said. “If that Elf was the only one to tend to your mistress at her birthing then the secret of Satyra’s birth mother will remain our own family secret.”  
   
Lucius agreed with his father. He hated feeling this vulnerable. It felt as though he had done something wrong in forsaking his vows of fidelity to Narcissa only for Narcissa to then take up the fruit of his shattered vows and raise the child as her own. He hated feeling guilty. He would banish the feeling as swiftly as he could.  
   
“Go now Lucius, there are announcements to be made.” Abraxas told him.  
   
Lucius, for a moment the dutiful son, obeyed his father.


	10. Trials

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius stands Trial as a Death Eater

Trials

Wizengamot Trial Chambers, Ministry of Magic, London, England

November 27, 1981

 

“State your name.” The voice of Bartimus Crouch Sr. demanded.

 

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.”  Lucius said from his position seated upon the chair before the Wizengamot.  He wore a standard set of white robes given to him weeks ago, soon after he had been taken into custody and shuffled into a Ministry of Magic Holding Cell to await his trial on charges of in sighting rebellion against the government.  He was chained to the chair; a move he did not think was truly necessary.  He was a Malfoy, far from stupid.  He was not going to try to bolt from the room with so many Auror’s present who would love a chance to fire nasty spells at him.  No he was a Malfoy and he knew how to play this game.  It was politics and he was a political creature.

 

“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you are brought here before this august body to answer to charges of in sighting rebellion against this government, of torturing Muggles, and of bearing the Dark Mark.”  Amelia Bones read the counts against him.  “How do you plead?”

 

Lucius looked up at the court around him and only briefly let his eyes wander over the men and women of the Wizengamot.  Some longed to support him and that he would use.  Others, like Albus Dumbledore wanted to see him receive the Dementor’s Kiss.  He knew why of course, Dumbledore was clever, too clever.  He knew that letting a Malfoy live was a bad idea.  He would see the line finished, even down to his little daughters if he could.  Unlike most, Lucius held no delusions about Dumbledore.

 

He let his eyes reach the gallery and they locked upon the gray eyes of his wife.  He held her gaze for several long moments before he uttered honest words to the court.  “I plead guilty.” 

 

He heard the gasps of surprise.  He knew from his spies that he was the first of the Death Eaters to issue a plea of guilty.  He had truly shocked the court.  He ignored the urge to look at the others in the court and instead kept his gaze focused upon the gray eyes of his wife.  ‘Cissa, his beautiful Narcissa was crying but she did not look away from him.

 

“Order.”  Came the cry of Madam Marchbanks.

 

The court settled and then Madam Marchbanks called out to him, forcing his gaze to turn to her and away from Narcissa.  “Heir Malfoy, you are aware that you have just claimed to be guilty?”  She asked with some surprise.

 

Lucius hung his head a moment as though ashamed but then he seemed to pull upon years of good breeding and sat up straighter and nodded to Madam Marchbanks.  “I issue a plea of guilty because I am in fact guilty.  I should be held accountable for my actions.”

 

A murmur went through the crowd at his words.

 

“Tell us Heir Malfoy how you came to be a Death Eater.”  Madam Marchbanks demanded of him.  The crowd settled, all too eager to hear just how he came to be in the service of He Who Must Not Be Named.

 

“I was seventeen the first time I met the man who styled himself as Lord Voldemort.”  Lucius spoke calmly.  “I found him to be a rather charismatic figure.  He spoke of wanting to make changes to the government.  I liked some of his goals.  I had often lamented that while I was a student at Hogwarts I was banned from celebrating the old practices.  I could not visit the old shrines that still exist at Hogwarts.  No one tends the old shrines anymore and they have fallen into decay.  Instead of celebrating Samhain, I had to sit with children and watch them overindulge in sweets at a Muggle Feast known as a Halloween Feast.  As a lover of history yourself Madam Marchbanks I am sure you could understand my turmoil at the loss of our culture.  The government was passing more and more restrictions every week that made it illegal for those of us who cared about our past to live as we did just twenty years before.  In the government’s idea of making things easier for Muggle-born’s they put a choke hold on Pure-blood’s.  Lord Voldemort talked of changing things, finding a way to ensure that those of us who kept to the Old Ways would still be able to keep to continue with our traditions.”

 

“I can sympathize.”  Madam Marchbanks admitted freely.  “So he lured you in due to your passion for the preservation of your history?”  She asked of him.

 

Lucius nodded his head in agreement.  “Yes.  He was very charismatic.  In many ways he reminded me of Headmaster Dumbledore when he spoke.”  Lucius said feeling quite sly as he saw the startled looks on many faces.  “Headmaster Dumbledore is a very good man and he feels very passionately about the rights of people.  He has often spoken in favor of the rights of Muggle-born’s.  He Who Must Not Be Named sounded quite similar when he spoke in favor of the rights of Witches and Wizards to know about the past and the Old Ways.”

 

“I see.”  Madame Bones said with a slight frown.  “Did you know that He Who Must Not Be Named would want you to kill Muggles or Muggle-borns?”  She asked of him.

 

Lucius shook his head no and was thrilled to be able to admit that much was true.  Voldemort had not made him aware that he would expect such from Lucius until after he was already a marked follower.  “No, I did not know that he had such a violent agenda.”  Lucius admitted.  “I am a Malfoy and as you may be aware of my family history, we are political animals.  We like politics in one way or another and we have long served our community from various political posts in the Ministry of Magic.  We have served our community faithfully.  He Who Must Not Be Named engaged me from a political angle.  He made me believe that he too was of a political mind and that the changes he wished to bring forth, he wanted to bring forth in a peaceful manner through the natural peaceful and political means within our government.”

 

“When did you discover that He Who Must Not Be Named was not the politician that you had thought of him?”  Madam Marchbanks asked of him.

 

“It was when I quite happily informed him that my wife, Narcissa, was pregnant once more.  Narcissa and I have suffered the loss of several children but this time the Healer insisted that she go into confinement immediately and it seemed that everything was going well.  Narcissa had passed through the first trimester with no problems.  I finally let myself believe that everything would be alright and that I would not lose this child as well and that my wife would be well throughout the pregnancy and delivery.”  He explained to the court.  “I met with He Who Must Not Be Named and other like-minded individuals and shared my good news.  It was that night that I was taken into greater confidence and I learned just how truly militant the man’s plans truly were.”  He looked down in shame.

 

“I wanted nothing to do with such militant means and I told him that.  I tried to persuade him that he could not let himself do such things.  That it might take years, even decades to make the changes that he so desired, but that it would be worth it over time.”  Lucius licked his dry lips as he looked up at the court.  “I honestly thought I could persuade him.  I honestly thought that he had just grown tired and desperate due to lack of progress.  We all of us have moments of frustration and I let myself believe that in his case it had gone to a horrible extreme.”  Lucius shook his head. “It had not.  No.  It had been his plan all along but I had been too naïve to understand it.”  He sounded disgusted with himself.

 

“Then what happened Heir Malfoy?”  Albus Dumbledore asked of him. 

 

Lucius took a deep breath and continued.  “I knew too much.  Of course I knew too much and I was refusing to join him. I was sure he would kill me then and there.  His followers spoke of it, their wands drawn and at the ready to kill me.  I thought about Narcissa and worried about what would happen to her but I did not beg for my life.  There would be no point.  They would never trust me if I suddenly changed my mind due to my fear of death.”  Lucius explained.  “He Who Must Not Be Named silenced his followers and then he told me that he would kill me but he believed I would be far more useful alive.  He then cast the spell upon me.”  He fell silent and a shudder went through him with the memory.

 

The court was hanging on his every word.  Lucius let them hang on the precipice, let them wait.  He struggled with the memory of how it had felt for his mind to suddenly be violated with a word.  He remembered how Voldemort had aimed his wand at him and said the word of the spell and then he had felt the dark presence in his mind, tearing into his memories, digging through his mind and studying his experiences.  He had attempted to fight back, to throw the man from his mind, but his efforts had been for naught.  There was no way he was strong enough to withstand the onslaught of Voldemort’s power.

 

“What spell did He Who Must Not Be Named cast upon you?”  Madam Marchbanks asked of him.

 

“Imperio.”  Lucius said it in a hoarse whisper.  The court was eerily silent for several long moments and then the voices began to speak each over the other.  Lucius did not try to make out the words.  He looked up again to the gallery and locked his eyes with Narcissa.  His sweet wife was crying and he knew then that she truly believed him.  She now knew that his months of neglect, his affair, even being marked with Lord Voldemort’s mark, were all due to his being under the Imperius Curse.  He wished he could hold her and apologize properly.  He wondered if he could beg the court to give him the chance to hold Narcissa and apologize to her before he was led away to Azkaban Prison.

 

He cast a swift glance to his father, seated beside ‘Cissa.  Abraxas face was perfectly blank.  His father had a firm social mask and he would not give away his thoughts or feelings in this venue.  While Lucius envied his father his social mask he despised not know what the older man was thinking.  Regardless he trusted that his father would protect Narcissa and his little girls while he languished in prison.  He had been permitted to speak with Abraxas only once while he had been in the holding cells.  It had not been a private conversation, two Aurors had stood in listening to their every word.  He had begged his father to swear to watch over ‘Cissa and the girls and Abraxas had sworn to do so.  He had also told his father that he never wanted ‘Cissa to be permitted to set foot in Azkaban Prison.  The idea of his beautiful love in that horrible place was intolerable.

 

“Heir Malfoy.”  Bartimus Crouch spoke over the din and the people began to settle down.

 

Lucius braced himself to deal with Bartimus Crouch.  The man had been very ruthless in his persecution of Death Eaters.

 

“You pled guilty and yet you claim that he cast the Imperius Curse upon you.”  Bartimus Crouch began.  “Why?”

 

Lucius looked ashamed even as he forced himself to meet the eyes of Crouch. “Because I did those things under the effects of the Imperius Curse.  I hurt people that I never would have hurt.  I did things I never would have done.”  He confessed with his voice full of shame and remorse.  “I must be punished for the bad things that I did.”  He said in a voice that sounded full of resolve and strength.  “I must atone for what I was made to do.”

 

Sympathetic murmurs arose from the gathered crowd and he knew in that moment that he had won.  He had won the popular vote.  Crouch had thought to make an example of him and so had been willing to open this trial to the public.  Lucius’s trial was one of the first of the Death Eater Trials to be so open to the public.  He somehow thought now that it would also be the last.

 

Crouch murmured with Marchbanks and also with Madame Bones.  Then Crouch nodded and rose.  “This court shall adjourn for two hours to review the evidence.  It shall return with the verdict.”

 

Lucius looked up once more at Narcissa and kept his eyes focused on her as the Aurors came to collect him and return him to a holding cell.  He did not put up a fight and let himself be removed.  He kept his dignity, his head held high.  He was a Malfoy.  The Malfoy Heir.  He would weather this storm and come out the stronger.

 

As he sat in his Ministry Appointed Holding Cell, he went over ideas for how to improve his standing in society once more.  He did not believe that he would serve a long sentence in Azkaban Prison.  The public sentiment would not allow for him to serve more than a few months in that horrid place.  So instead he would have to appear solemnly repentant and trying to find absolution for the sins he was forced to do. 

 

He would give money and time to charities.  He would give money to Saint Mungo’s Hospital of Magical Maladies.  He would gently politic for the Old Ways to be favored.  That he would have to do delicately.  Dumbledore favored the Muggle-born’s and he preferred their stupid insidious little holidays.

 

It was a relief that Lord Voldemort had been defeated.  He had been defeated by a toddler, Harry Potter, on the first birthday of his daughters Lyra and Arya.  Lucius had felt the release of the curse upon him and it had left him feeling disoriented, as though he were awakening from a terrible dream.  It had been more frightening to realize the dream was his reality.

 

That the Dark Lord was defeated on his daughter’s birthday seemed a strange omen.  He was probably being foolish.  He was not the sort to believe in omens and portents of prophecy and yet he could not shake the thought that the defeat of the Dark Lord on his daughters first birthday held some sort of meaning.

 

He would have to take a little bit more of an interest in the education of his three daughters.  He could not remember the last time he had held any of his three daughters.  He felt a touch of guilt over the thought.  He was not a good father to them.  They found his father preferable to him.  He had seen how Arya and Satyra would cling to Abraxas with Lucius in the same room with them.  Lyra would stare at him as though watching his every movement.  Of course she could not be though.  She was a year old.  Satyra was only five months old now.

 

He let his musings of his daughters go once the Auror’s returned to take him to the court room.  He acted once more like the model prisoner giving his guards no trouble to complain of.  He was chained once more into the chair.  Though once more he felt it exasperating.  They had to know that it was unnecessary.  Still he supposed there were some fools who might try to run away right into the spells of the Aurors.

 

He looked once more to the gallery and saw Narcissa smiling at him.  It had been a long time since she had smiled at him in such a way and he felt triumphant that she believed in him.  He forced himself to pay attention to the court when Crouch began to speak.

 

“It is the hard argued decision of this court that Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, Heir to House Malfoy is innocent of the charges of being a willing follower of He Who Must Not Be Named.”  Crouch sounded quite sour about the decision which told Lucius plainly that Crouch had wanted to convict him.

 

“Lucius Malfoy was a victim of the self-styled Lord Voldemort.” Crouch continued.  “This court grants him his pardon and thanks Heir Malfoy for being willing to take responsibility for actions that were beyond his own control.  Court is now dismissed.”

 

Lucius smiled as he felt the chains slither off of his body.  He arose slowly as an Auror came to stand beside him.  “Come Heir Malfoy and we shall get your wand and your clothes.”

 

Lucius nodded politely to the Auror.  “Thank you.”  He said politely.  “I do appreciate the great care you and your fellow Auror’s have taken of my person.”

 

The man said nothing to that as he led him from the court room.  Lucius was swiftly processed.  His favorite pair of black dress robes was given to him to change into and he was happy to oblige.  He was then led through the Auror Headquarters and past an angry sneering Alastor Moody.  Lucius fought against the urge to smirk at Moody’s angry expression and instead carried on following the Auror to the Ministry Atrium.  Several members of the press were there waiting for him.  The Auror then presented him with his wand and Lucius felt relief to be able to hold it once more.

 

“Lucius!”  The voice of Narcissa called out to him and he turned to his left toward her voice to see her fighting her way through the crowd.  He smiled at her as members of the crowd made way for her and she came to him.  Knowing the press was watching them Lucius gripped her tightly about the waist and then he lifted her spinning her in the safety of his arms.  He slid her body down against his encasing her in his arms and then before the people milling about in the Ministry Atrium and before the cameras of the press he thoroughly kissed his wife, devouring her lips and drinking deeply from her as though he were a man dying of thirst and she was a well of the sweetest nectar.

 

A soft moan rumbled in her throat and Lucius groaned in response.  He needed to curb this wild behavior now.  He could not very well take his wife on the floor of the Ministry Atrium.  He reluctantly broke the kiss but pressed his brow to ‘Cissa’s.  “I love you.”  He murmured.  “I am sorry Cissa.  So sorry.”

 

“Oh Lucius!”  Narcissa murmured to him even as the press kept taking pictures of them and members of the press tried leaning closer to understand what they were saying to one another.  “I should have known.  I should have realized.  You became distant and you did not seem like yourself even when you visited me.  I should have realized that he had done that to you.  If I had realized, then your father and I might have been able to help you.”  She murmured swiftly.”

 

Lucius shook his head in the negative, enjoying touching her, enjoying having her back in his arms and adoring him once more.  “No ‘Cissa.  You are not to blame.  Nor is father.  It was me.  I was foolish, naïve.  I should have never trusted someone I did not know well so very easily.”

 

“Let’s go home Lucius.”  She murmured to him.  “We have a lot of catching up to do.” 

 

There was a plea in her voice and a promise in her eyes and Lucius was all too happy to give in and allow her to take him home to Malfoy Manor.


	11. Crown of Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra, Arya, and Satyra Malfoy spend time together at Malfoy Manor

Crown of Flowers

 

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

June 1987

 

Lyra Malfoy looked at the flowers that her sister, Arya, had spread before them on the blanket in the North-west garden of Malfoy Manor.  It was a peaceful day.  The sun was shining brightly and the morning chill had disappeared.  It was not yet the hot weather of summer, but they were approaching the longest day of the year so soon enough they would suffer the blistering heat of summer weather.  Days like this were to be truly cherished.

 

Lyra sighed as she picked up two of the flowers before her.  She chose the rich red Carnelia flower and then a pure white Carnation and she slowly began peeling away their leaves.  Once that was finished she swiftly and deftly began to manipulate the stems to twist and turn to her purpose.  Once those two were woven together, she chose another Carnelia and proceeded to do the process again, weaving the new Carnelia with the white Carnation and the first Carnelia flower. 

 

She smiled softly at Arya who sat before her weaving pink Peonies with white Carnations.  Lyra swiftly surmised that Ayra’s creation would be a gift for their sister Satyra.  Their little sibling was greatly enamored of the pink Peonies that grew in this garden.

 

Usually the creation of flower crowns and jewelry was a relaxing experience, one that Lyra quite enjoyed.  Yet today she could not quite find the peace she was searching for.  Lyra’s mind was troubled due to her lessons with both of her parents.  Her father was teaching her about politics, about the weaknesses of the great families of Wizarding Europe, and etiquette and manners expected of her as the Malfoy Heiress.  In turn her mother was teaching her about the histories of the Great Families of Wizarding Britain, social etiquette expected of a young lady born into such a noble and well established family, and social etiquette expected of her as the Malfoy Heiress.

 

Her parents were contradictory.  Her father insisted on training her as though she were a male heir instead of a female one.  Her mother was training her as though she were a female heiress, which of course she was.  Her father wanted her to stand tall and proud and wearing arrogance like a cloak.  Her mother wanted her to be elegant, graceful, and effect a demure façade to hide her true self from the world.

 

“Lyra, a male can get away with acting proud and arrogant.  Many men will admire them and the ladies shall wonder what is hidden beneath that arrogance and pride.”  Narcissa had said to her just yesterday.  “But a young lady who acts arrogant and proud will find herself without friends.  She will be considered an ill-bred young lady.  Aspersions shall be cast upon her name.”

 

Lyra did not have to look far to know that her mother was correct.  Her friend Pansy Parkinson, the Parkinson heiress, was an incredibly arrogant and proud girl.  Many of their peers did not like Pansy and whispered rude things behind the girl’s back.  Lyra did not want to be treated the way that Pansy was treated.

 

Surely there must be some way to balance her father’s desires for her to be a proud heir and her mother’s truth that arrogant and proud behavior would lead her to ruin.  She sighed again and glanced down at her hands.  They twisted the last flower in place and she smiled as she stared at the red and white crown.  She had the wildest idea suddenly that the white was wrong and instead she should have gone with a golden flower and then she giggled at her thoughts.  It was an absurd thought really.  Red and gold were Gryffindor colors and she knew perfectly well that she would never be sorted into that house.  Her father would die of shame if she were to ever sort into any house other than Slytherin or Ravenclaw.

 

She was grateful that she would not be attending Hogwarts for another few years.  She was not ready to go so far away from home yet.  She would miss her parents, her grandsire, Dresden, Merit, Dobby, and the other house-elves.  She was happy that the age was eleven when a child went away to the wizarding schools.

 

Lyra raised the flowered crown to her own head and placed the red and white flowers gently atop her silvery-blond hair.  She smiled as she felt the weight settle upon her.  “What do you think?”

 

Arya giggled as she stared at Lyra.  “I think that you have an unnatural fascination with the color red.”  She said.  “I also think that you have an unnatural fascination with mother’s emeralds.”

 

“Emeralds are very pretty.”  Lyra defended herself.  “Besides, emerald green is a Slytherin color and you know that I am most likely going to be a Slytherin.”

 

“With tutoring from Mother, Father, and Grandpapa I do not see how you could end up in any other house.”  Arya admitted to her sister.

 

Lyra smiled at this.  “Jealous?”  She asked of Arya.

 

Arya laughed then.  “A bit.”  She admitted.  “I do not receive tutoring from Father.” 

 

“You really do not want to.”  Lyra told her.  “It is all so contradictory and confusing.”  She admitted for the first time to her twin sister.  “He is training me as though I were a boy.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “So I am learning how a man is supposed to act.”

 

“But you are a girl.”  Arya protested.  “Father does realize you are a girl doesn’t he?”

 

Lyra laughed due to Arya’s fearful curiosity.  “Yes, father knows I am a girl.”  She soothed Arya.  “But he has no male heir so he is raising me up as though I am a male but of course this will not work.  The rules that apply to males do not apply to females.”

 

“Certainly not.”  Arya said.  “It is a…a… oh how did Dora say it?”  Arya frowned as she struggled for the wording.  “Oh yes.  Double-standard.  Dora says that it is a double-standard that males can get away with acting the way they do but women must be more amiable, elegant, enchanting, and demure.”

 

Lyra nodded.  She too had heard their cousin Nymphadora’s rants about the inequality of the genders in the Wizarding World.  Lyra was pretty sure that it was the same for the Muggles as well, though she could not as of yet prove it.  One day she would though.  She had no desire to be ignorant of Muggles.  If they had the means to hurt Witches and Wizards then she wanted to know as much as she could about them. 

 

‘Know thy enemy.’  As the teaching went.

 

“Mother tries to undo what Father teaches me.”  Lyra told Arya.  “Truly, you do not want tutoring with Father lest it be politics.  He is really quite interesting to listen to when he speaks of politics, unless you dislike politics of course.  Then you would be terribly bored.

 

“I am not sure it is possible for a born Malfoy to dislike politics.”  Arya said with a laugh.  “Even Satyra listens to Father in rapture when he rants about some bill or other being proposed in the Wizengamot.”

 

Lyra nodded her head in understanding and then took up another red Carnelia to begin preparing for weaving.  It was a few moments later that Lyra felt the shadow of her younger sister, Satyra, pass over her and then Satyra dropped to her knees on the blanket and pressed herself against Lyra’s side.  This was something Satyra often did when she sought comfort.

 

“Satyra, is something the matter?”  Lyra asked politely of her youngest sibling.

 

Satyra whimpered slightly and then nodded her head, golden blond curls bounced with the movement. 

 

Lyra placed the flower crown that she had been working on down gently to her left and looked to her little sister nestled against her right side.  “What happened Satyra?  Where do you hurt?”  She asked in a gentle and coaxing tone of voice.

 

Satyra looked up at Lyra with big ice-blue eyes, their father’s eyes, and she held up her finger for Lyra’s inspection.  “I was helping Mother with the roses but one of them stuck me.”  She said showing the wound to Lyra.

 

Lyra inspected the wound and was relieved to see that the thorn had not remained imbedded in Satyra’s finger.  She raised the finger gently to her lips and she whispered a spell that she had heard her Mother and their Nannies whisper countless times.  The spell was to clean the wound.  Then she whispered a healing charm that sealed the wound as though it never was.  She placed a kiss to the spot when she was finished and smiled at her sister.  “All better?”  She asked of Satyra.

 

Satyra inspected her finger and slowly began to smile in wonder when she saw that she was truly healed.  She giggled then and nodded her head, once more sending curls bouncing.  “All better.”  She agreed.

 

“Good, because little Princesses should not be hurt.”  Arya said as she rose up on her knees and placed the crown of Pink Peonies upon Satyra’s head.  Though Lyra was no fan of pink Peonies herself, she had to admit that the shade did look pretty amongst her sister’s golden curls.

 

Satyra touched the flowers with gentle finger tips and then she smiled brightly at Arya.  “Thank you Arya.”  She said.  “Can you teach me how to make one?”

 

“I don’t know.”  Arya said to Satyra.  “You are not the most patient of ladies and it does take a lot of patience Satyra.”

 

“I can be patient.”  Satyra insisted.

 

Arya had a doubting expression on her face but she nodded her head.  “Alright.  We’ll try again.  It has been a year since the last time I attempted to teach you.  Perhaps you have improved in patience since then.”

 

Thus began a strange hour where Arya tried again and again to teach Satyra Malfoy how to braid flowers together to create a flower crown.  It was strange to Lyra that Satyra could not seem to figure out how to do it herself, even after watching Arya slowly and confidently show her again and again.

 

Eventually Lyra chose to end the lesson by having Satyra prepare the flowers for them.  Satyra seemed to enjoy peeling away the leaves from the stems.  She placed the leaves into a pile off to the side as though they might be used for some other purpose later.

 

“Why are you saving the leaves?”  Arya asked of Satyra.

 

“Because Uncle Severus says we are not to waste potions ingredients.”  Satyra proclaimed.

 

Lyra laughed aloud at that.  “I am not sure that these leaves will be necessary in potions ingredients.”  She said to Satyra.

 

Satyra frowned in thought.  “I think we should let uncle Sev decide that.  He is the greatest Potions Master in the whole world.”  She reminded them.

 

Lyra smiled as she wondered how their Uncle Severus would react to hearing Satyra praise him so.  “Alright.”  Lyra said and then she had an idea.  “Merit.”  She called out the name of Satyra’s personal house-elf. 

 

“Mistress Lyra wishes to speak to Merit?”  The house-elf asked.

 

“Yes.  Merit, Satyra wishes to save these leaves for Master Severus Snape to examine.  It is Satyra’s hope that he may be able to use some of these as potions ingredients.”  She informed the little elf.  “Would you please place a stasis charm on them and find a box to put them in so that they do not spoil until Master Snape may visit us once again?”

 

“Of course Mistress Lyra.”  Merit said and then smiled at Satyra.  “I shall return with a box for Mistress Satyra and assist her in saving potions ingredients.”

 

Satyra smiled at her house-elf in gratitude as it disappeared.

 

“That was a good idea Lyra.”  Arya said as she finished a final flower crown.  She already wore a crown made up of lilacs.  The crown she held in her hands was made up of Daffodils. 

 

“For Mother?”  Lyra asked of Arya as she stared from the crown back to her twin sister’s face. 

 

Arya nodded her head even as Merit returned with a box for the leaves.  Lyra and Arya watched Merit and Satyra put the leaves in the box and they watched Merit cast a stasis charm over the leaves before closing the box.

 

“Merit, could you possibly cast a stasis spell over our flower crowns as well, so that we might keep them forever?”  Satyra asked her elf.

 

“Of course Mistress Satyra.”  Merit said with a happy tone and eyes alight with happiness.

 

Lyra was often amazed at how happy most of the Malfoy House Elves were to serve.  The majority of them showed fear toward her father but they showed deference bordering on adoration toward her mother, her sisters, and herself.

 

Satyra and Arya laughed when they felt the magic that Merit cast upon their crowns.  Lyra held still and felt a sort of tingling where the crown rested upon her head and then it was gone.  “Thank you Merit.” Lyra said because she had been taught to be gracious.  Her mother had ensured that she knew to say thank you, and that included thanking the servants for their good work.

 

“Come on, I want to give Mother her crown.”  Arya said as she arose and dusted excess flower stems and petals from her skirts.  Lyra and Satyra arose as well and likewise dusted their skirts off before they followed Arya toward the stone patio where there mother was yet again attempting to arrange various flowers into a vase. 

 

Lyra frowned at the combination of pinks, blues, and yellows that her mother was using.  She felt the pinks were too vibrant.  A carnation pink would be better.  The blues were fine but the yellows were bordering on an orange and so not really a good combination with the other shades.  Her mother was fabulous when it came to horticulture, but she was severely lacking when it came to picking out flowers for floral arrangements.

 

“Mother look what Arya made for you?”  Satyra said in a raised voice, excited by the prospect of giving their mother a gift.

 

“Satyra, what have I told you about raising your voice?”  Narcissa asked of her youngest daughter.

 

Satyra blushed and paused at the table’s edge staring at the flowers that had yet to be placed in her mother’s ghastly arrangement.  “That young ladies do not raise their voices unless it is to call for aid in an emergency.”

 

“Very good.”  Narcissa said as she placed two stems of green fluffy leaves into the vase.  Then she turned her gaze to her girls.  “Now what is this that you wished to see me about?”

 

“Arya made you a present.”  Satyra said in a gentler tone as though trying to act like the little lady that Narcissa was trying to turn her into.

 

“I see.”  Narcissa said with a smile.  “And where is this present?”  She asked politely.

 

“Here it is.”  Arya said with a giggle as she pulled the flower crown out from behind her back where she had been trying to hide it.

 

Lyra’s eyes narrowed in confusion as she watched her mother’s reactions.  For a moment Narcissa Malfoy looked stricken but then she swiftly recovered and smiled at Arya.

 

“Why thank you my dear.”  Narcissa said and favored Arya with a kiss on the cheek.  She kissed Satyra’s forehead next.  “Why don’t you girls go inside and get washed up?  Dinner is in an hour and a half.”

 

“Of course Mother.”  Satyra said as she made for the door.  Arya was swiftly following her.

 

Lyra watched them go but remained at her mother’s side.  “Mother.”  She began.  “Did you not like the flower crown?”  She asked.  “Arya worked hard on it.  We had Merit cast a spell upon it to keep it fresh forever.”

 

Narcissa sighed.  “Lyra, no.  I love the crown and it was very thoughtful of Arya.”  She said gently.  “I just, when I looked at the crown something else came to mind, that’s all.”

 

“What was it that came to mind?”  Lyra wanted desperately to know because for that moment her mother had looked so very unsettled and sad.

 

“A dream that I had a long time ago.”  Narcissa admitted.

 

Dreams.

 

Lyra understood about dreams.  She had vague dreams of an emerald eyed boy and of the color scarlet red.  The scarlet red was why she liked the Carnelia flower that currently adorned her head.  Those emerald eyes was why she preferred her mother’s emeralds to any other stone that her mother owned.

 

Lyra reached for her mother’s hand and squeezed it once in a show of support and then she turned away and walked calmly into the house.  There was nothing for her to say to Narcissa, nothing that would ease the burden of dreams for her mother.  She knew, because nothing eased her dreams.  Not Arya’s kind whispers in the dark or Dobby’s trick of sneaking her snacks from the kitchen to soothe her.  Her poor mother.  She hoped that her mother did not dream often.


	12. Family Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa and Andromeda share a few happy hours at White Hall while watching their daughters fly.

Family Bonding

White Hall, Suffolk, England

July 1991

 

Narcissa sighed softly as she watched her oldest daughter fly through the air on her broom.  The broom was four years old now and really Lyra needed a new broom, but she still took to the skies on this broom as though she were light as a feather.  Her oldest daughter seemed like she was born to fly.  Sometimes the stunts that she pulled on her broom had Narcissa’s heart in her throat, worried that Lyra would fall or that she would crash.  Yet Lyra never crashed.  She had never had the awkward phase in the air that most children experience as they learn how to fly.

 

“She’s like my Nymphadora.”  Her sister, Andromeda spoke from her seat opposite her.  “Nymphadora can trip over her own feet but she never once had the awkward phase when it came to learning how to fly on a broom.”

 

She smiled as she looked at her older sister.  She enjoyed these times at White Hall where Andromeda could visit with her daughter, Nymphadora Tonks.  Nymphadora had been the one to teach her three girls how to fly because Lucius had never made the time.  It was a bitter thought and a bitter reminder of how Lucius was still disappointed about the fact that he had daughters but not sons.

 

“I am grateful that Nymphadora decided to teach them.”  Narcissa said softly.  At her older sister’s disbelieving look she laughed.  “Oh I remember how furious I was when I discovered that Nymphadora had been instructing them in the fine art of flying.”  She said waving away her past anger.  “However, look at Lyra now.”  She said motioning with an elegant hand to her oldest girl in the air.  The girl was being trailed by her twin sister Arya while Satyra was beside Nymphadora in the air listening intently to instructions from the older girl.  “This is when she is free.”

 

Andromeda frowned at that and stared pointedly at her sister.  “Has Lucius put more burdens upon her of late?”  She asked.

 

“It was inevitable considering Abraxas’s failing health.”  Narcissa admitted.  She watched her daughters a few moments longer and then looked again at her sister.  “I wish that Lucius would not set her up to fail.  He tries to train her as though she were a boy but she is an heiress, not an heir.”

 

Her dark haired sister frowned at that.  “Does he not realize that the males will be expecting her to act the part of the gentle damsel?”

 

The blond woman shook her head sadly.  “I do not understand what goes through is mind these days.”  She said and it was as close to admission of how little time she spent time with her husband as she would allow herself.

 

Though they had grown closer after Lucius’s trial those ten years ago, just a few years ago he had begun to pull away from her again.  It was in small ways that she could find no fault with, such as family business that needed his attention since Abraxas’s health was failing and her father-in-law could no longer handle the responsibility of the vast Malfoy financial empire.  At first it was just business trips and the like that kept Lucius busy but soon it became an emotional distance as well.  Narcissa often thought that she could handle the emotional distance far better if he had not likewise become emotionally distant from his daughters as well.

 

If his actions had hurt the girls she really could not tell.  The thing that often seemed to prey upon the mind of her girls was the fact that their grandsire was increasingly weakening.  They knew he was dying, had known that he suffered from a lingering illness for years.  He was often quarantined away from them.  The girls made him presents during those times and the House Elves delivered them to him.

 

When Narcissa was honest with herself, she understood that her daughters valued Abraxas as the father figure in their life.  Lucius had simply been too sporadic, entering and leaving as he pleased.  When he did spend time with them it was as a sort of tutor to teach Lyra, Arya, and Satyra about Law or about how to be a proper Malfoy.  All things that Narcissa then had to work hard to curb so that the girls did not come across as terribly pompous.

 

“Are the girls looking forward to attending Hogwarts?”  Andromeda asked in a bid to change her sister’s thoughts away from Lucius.

 

Narcissa gave her a grateful smile before she answered “Yes, they have heard so many marvelous things from Dora about Hogwarts that they were dead set on going despite how Lucius wished to send them to Durmstrang or Beauxbaton’s instead.”

 

“But he sits on the Hogwart’s Board of Governors.”  Her sister pointed out.  “How would that look, sending his daughters away to another school?”

 

“Poorly.”  She giggled.  “He did make some paltry statement that maybe he would just let Satyra attend Hogwarts but send the other two to Durmstrang.”  She shook her head at the memory.  “Needless to say, the girls and I were a united front against him.”

 

“Why Satyra though and not the other two?”  Andromeda wondered.

 

She glanced toward where Satyra was flying alongside Nymphadora.  Satyra was less impressive on a broom, not having the natural skill that Lyra and Arya possessed.  Due to that fact, Nymphadora had spent a lot of time helping the other girl become quite comfortable and competent on the broom.

 

“He treats her as an accessory mostly.”  Narcissa admitted softly.  “I have never seen him dote upon her or treat her lovingly.  I think she is yet another reminder of his failure to have a son.  Or at least that is how he sees her.”  She amended.

 

The two women were silent for some time as they watched the girls flying in the sky.  Lyra and Arya were doing lazy circles in the sky, unwilling to show off too much in front of Satyra for fear that their sister would try to imitate them and hurt herself.  Nymphadora was putting Satyra through maneuvers by first explaining them and then showing them to the younger girl.  Satyra happily attempted each maneuver and usually got it right on the first try.  Narcissa felt pride in Satyra’s accomplishments.  The girl was a swift learner and rarely had to be shown a second time how to do a thing correctly.

 

“Is Nymphadora looking forward to her final year at Hogwarts?”  She asked her sister.

 

Andromeda nodded her head.  “Very much so.”  She said with a laugh.  “She’s talked a bit about looking forward to your girls being there as first years during her final year.  She doubts they will sort into Hufflepuff House with her, but she still wants to look out for them.”

 

She laughed at the thought.  “That is very sweet of Dora.”  She said with a smile.  “I suppose I should have expected that.  Your Dora has been looking after them since the first time she laid eyes on them.”

 

“You could say that.”  Andromeda laughed.  “She reminds me of us in that regards Cissy.”  She pointed out to her younger sister.  “You were brought home from the hospital and when I first laid eyes on you I thought you were my perfect little sister and I would do all I could to make sure nothing bad happened to you.”

 

Narcissa felt tears in her eyes and swiftly wiped them away.  “Oh Andromeda!”  She exclaimed happily before she moved from her seat in order to hug her older sister.  “Thank you for being such a good older sister.”

 

Andromeda simply hugged her for a few moments before releasing her so that Narcissa could return to her seat.  “Nymphadora was an only child as you know.  Having little cousins to dote upon has been good for her.”  She added.

 

“She has been good for my girls as well.”  Narcissa promised.  “They adore her.  Arya was telling me just yesterday that your Dora wishes to become an Auror.”

 

“I still do not know how to feel about that.”  Andromeda admitted.  “I am proud of her and I think it is a good job ambition, but the danger involved is enough to make any decent mother squeamish.”

 

“Of course.”  Narcissa agreed sympathetically.  “I am honestly quite grateful that my girls shall never really have the opportunity to choose such a dangerous career for themselves.  Why with the Malfoy, Lestrange, and Prince properties to inherit and administer there is no chance that they will have time to take on a truly dangerous career.”

 

“You say that until you learn just what administering those estates entails.”  Andromeda teased her sister.

 

Narcissa made a face at that.  “I hope it will not be too tedious.  At least I know the Malfoy properties will be nicely kept.  If there is one thing in the world Lucius is good at it is making money.”  She said.  “Thankfully he is better at making it than he is at spending it for he also excels in that category.”

 

Andromeda laughed at her.  “I remember what it is like to go shopping with you Cissy, don’t think for a second that I believe you cannot out do the great Lucius Malfoy in that contest.”

 

She smiled impishly at her sister.  “Well, if it really is a contest I could hardly say no.”

 

Her sister laughed again and Narcissa joined her in laughter.  This was how her daughters and her niece found the two of them.

 

Nymphadora, the willowy, seventeen-year-old with brown hair and pale blue eyes stared at the two women for a moment and then shrugged.  It wasn’t often enough that she saw her aunt smile and laugh, but when she did see it, it was always due to her mother.  Andromeda had an ability to unravel Narcissa layer by layer and free her of her burdens as she did so.  Nymphadora wished she had that ability with her own cousins, but she figured that part of her mother and aunt’s abilities were because of them being sisters who had lived together and been close in age.

 

She had been nine when her little cousins were born.  They were not close in age but they were close otherwise.  She could not really remember a time since they were born that she hadn’t been willing to spend time with them.  She loved teaching them things about the Muggle World because she knew that their father would throw a fit if he knew that his precious Pure-blood daughters were learning how to associate with Muggles.

 

“Are you done for the afternoon?”  Andromeda asked of the girls.

 

“Yes, Aunt Andromeda.”  Arya answered her.

 

“It was great fun though.”  Satyra gushed.  “Dora taught me more about being competent on the broom so that I don’t fall.”

 

“And Lyra and I did laps in order to get a good feel for our brooms.”  Arya said as she sat down beside Satyra. 

 

“Lyra should try out for one of the House teams.”  Satyra declared.

 

Nymphadora nodded her agreement.  “She’s already better on a broom than some of the players I have seen at the school.”  She admitted.  “I think she’d put Charlie Weasley to shame.  He was phenomenal on a broomstick.”  She admitted with a dreamy quality to her voice.

 

Narcissa smirked at that.  She had beheld Charles Weasley, the second son of Arthur and Molly Weasley and she could admit that he was a very attractive young man, if a woman liked their man to be rugged rather than polished.  Charles was, she could admit, a pure diamond pulled from the earth and not yet polished or cut.

 

“Is Charlie your beau?”  Arya began to tease her older cousin.

 

Nymphadora blushed and her hair changed from a pale lavender to a bright bubble-gum pink.  “No!”  She insisted.  “He’s just a friend.”

 

“I think you protest too much.”  Satyra said with a smirk worthy of her father curving her lips.

 

“Oh she’s being honest.”  Lyra assured her sisters.  “She would not mind if Charlie decided to pursue her though.”

 

“Insufferable brats!” Nymphadora swore, but it was in good fun.  In a few years she was sure she’d be able to tease the three blondes about their own crushes.  Turnabout would be sweet.

 

“I do not think that I should try out for a House Team.”  Lyra said taking pity on Dora and changing the subject. 

 

“Oh? And why is that?”  Her aunt Andromeda asked of her.

 

“Yeah, you are really phenomenal in the air.”  Satyra persisted.  It was clear that she did not approve of Lyra turning down her advice to join one of the House Quidditch Teams.

 

“I like to fly but I don’t really care that much about Quidditch to be honest.”  Lyra informed them.  “I think that would be a detriment to a team if I could not come to love the game as sincerely as they do.”  She admitted.

 

Satyra frowned at her.  “You could.  You are just being stubborn.”

 

“Well it doesn’t matter anyway since first years are not allowed on the House Teams.”  Nymphadora told the girls.  This news seemed to soothe Satyra’s ruffled feathers.

 

“It would be a good way to bring glory to the Malfoy name.”  Satyra said in one last bid to make Lyra agree to join a team.

 

Lyra shook her head and her gray eyes grew cold as she looked at Satyra.  “Or it would be a way for detractors to have another way to bring shame upon the name of Malfoy.”  She said succinctly.  “Do you really think that anyone would believe that I had not bought my way on to the House Team?  Sure there will be those who see I am talented and will believe I won my way onto the team by my own merit but then there will be others who hate us for our name and will want to cast any aspersion on us that they can.  In this case I just don’t see how it wouldn’t do more harm than good.”  With that Lyra grabbed Satyra’s broom and Arya’s broom and strode into the house intent on putting their brooms back into their old playroom.

 

Satyra sighed as she watched her sister go.  “Sometimes she acts like the whole world is on her shoulders.”

 

Arya nodded her agreement.  “Father and Grandfather have put a lot of responsibilities on her.”  She reminded her sister.

 

“I know.”  Satyra said.  “I just wish that Lyra could be allowed to be like us more often.  She really loves flying.”

 

“Flying, not competition though.  Quidditch is perhaps too intense for our Lyra.”  Arya said.

 

“Nonsense!  Our Lyra thrives in competition.”  Satyra said causing the other women to laugh due to the honesty of her statement.

 

“Well kid, you have a whole year to convince her that Quidditch will be good for her.”  Nymphadora pointed out to her.  “I wish you luck with that.”

 

Narcissa arose then.  “Come on girls.  It is time to wash up.  Dinner should be ready soon.”  Satyra and Arya arose swiftly and followed after Narcissa with Andromeda and Nymphadora trailing behind them.

 

She did not really want Lyra to join the House Team.  Narcissa believed that Lyra had good reasons for not joining the team.  She knew that there were families out there who hated the Malfoy’s and were ready to cast any aspersion of evil upon their name.  It was not hard to imagine Lyra working hard and winning a position on the team only to then suffer from rumors and insults hurled her way about how her Daddy bought her way onto the team.  Since Quidditch was not truly important to Lyra, Narcissa could understand why this particular child would think to avoid the whole possibility altogether.

 

Really it would be so like Lucius to hear that one of his children had made it onto one of the House Teams and then he buys the team a set of brooms.  That would only serve to make her truly look like she had bought her way onto the team.  Lucius was so used to bribing and buying people’s good will that he had no idea of how to go about earning it on his own merits.  Narcissa sometimes wondered if he ever knew how to win someone over.  Somehow he had won her, but that was so long ago now that it was hard for her to see any remnant of the man he had been in the man she was now married to.

 

Lyra seemed to worry about her reputation.  She was obviously more aware of the slanders against the Malfoy name than Narcissa would like her to be.  The knowledge of the slanders seemed to make Lyra more cautious but also determined to do things the right way.  That Lyra had determined that throwing around money to get her way was not the right way was a great comfort to Narcissa.

 

‘Soon it will be time to go to Diagon Alley.’  Narcissa thought.  Soon enough it would be time to go and get the girls their wands and their school supplies.  She was looking forward to a day of shopping with her girls.


	13. The Old Dragon Fades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abraxas Malfoy faces the end of his life.

The Old Dragon Fades

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

August 12, 1991

 

Abraxas Malfoy stared at the ceiling above his bed and sighed in defeat.  He had been sick for so many years now and he could feel his magical core was draining away.  Contaminated. 

 

He let his eyes take in the painting on the ceiling of his bed, his eyes lovingly tracing the details of every line.  A dragon in majestic glory breathing fire down upon its enemies.  He had been called a Dragon for many years.  As he aged he was called the “Old Dragon” by those in society who had cause to fear him. 

 

His Lucius was not a Dragon or at least not one like himself.  A Wyvern at best was his Lucius.  Ah, but Lyra, his beautiful granddaughter was a Dragon like himself.  She would do well, provided Lucius did not ruin her life while she was still in her minority.  This thought more often than not worried Abraxas as he had grown feebler with his illness.

 

It had been years since he had seen Lyra with his own eyes.  He was highly contagious and so was only attended by the House-Elves now.  His precious granddaughters could not be risked.  He’d never forgive himself if his selfish desire to see them just once more caused them to catch his disease.  Dragonpox was a nasty disease.  Just the thought of one of his girls wasting away from it brought the sting of tears to his eyes.

 

He groaned as he attempted to sit up in his bed.  He could not remember when last he had sat up.  It had been many days if not weeks he was sure.  A moment after his failed attempt he tried yet again and this time he felt the hands of two house-elves assisting him.  Another was fluffing the pillows behind him.

 

“Thank you,” he murmured.  He had rarely thanked the House-elves who served him, but over the years some of Narcissa’s manners had rubbed off on him.  He had found that the occasional show of appreciation for their efforts did actually make the little creatures happier to serve.

 

“Dresden,” he called his personal House-Elf to him.

 

“Master,”  Dresden said as he came to stand beside the bed.

 

“Dresden, I would use the last of my strength to protect my granddaughters,” he said in a wheezing breath.  “I will die today.  I bid you to keep the Malfoy Grimoire from the hands of Lucius.  Give it instead into the keeping of Lyra, and do so when Lucius is not around to be aware.”

 

Dresden’s eyes filled with tears even as he nodded, “Yes, yes Master.”

 

“You are not allowed to follow me into the darkness Dresden,” Abraxas told the House-Elf, and with this pronouncement tears did spill from the little creature’s eyes.

 

“Please, please Master let Dresden follow you,” he cried.  “Please! Master has never been without his Dresden and Dresden belongs with Master.”

 

Abraxas felt compassion stir within him.  He had rarely showed this creature how much he cared for him.  Not since he had been a child had he given Dresden true affection.  “My dear Dresden, I cannot let you follow me.  I am too selfish to let you follow me,” he told him.  “I need you to remain.  I need to know that you remain and guard Lyra, Arya, and Satyra,” he told the House-Elf.  "With the severing of our bond I hope that your affection for me will permit you to grant my last request of you.”

 

Dresden was gripping the comforter in a tight fist as the tears dripped from his eyes.  “What request Master?” he managed to ask through the pain of his tears.

 

“Bond with one of my granddaughters so that you may protect them, and give to them the comfort that you always gave to me,” Abraxas requested.  “Love them as you have loved me and my spirit shall be content Dresden. When they no longer need you, then you may come to be with me.”

 

“Master promises?” Dresden asked.  “Master promises that if Dresden watches over the young mistresses that he will one day be reunited with Master?”

 

Abraxas nodded his head as he answered, “Yes, Dresden.”

 

Dresden managed a tremulous smile despite his tears. “Then I will obey Master’s last request.”

 

“Thank you,” Abraxas whispered and then allowed himself to rest against the pillows and close his eyes.  He knew not how long he allowed himself rest.  Time had ceased to have meaning for him some years ago when he had been forced by his illness to enter quarantine.

 

When he awoke the sun was setting and he found himself staring out the windows for several moments watching the play of colors across the sky.  He noted four figures in flight and a small smile curved his lips when he realized that the figures where his son and his beloved granddaughters.  So Lucius was making time for the girls, good.  Good.

 

He watched them, the four beings that he loved more than his very life.  Wasn’t that a strange thing to acknowledge now that he was finally embracing his death?  He had rarely acknowledged that he even felt the kinder emotions.  He had masked his love for his son and for his granddaughters for so long in the cloak of "Duty" that he had thought that the cloak was the truth.  He had forgotten what lay beneath.

 

“Fnaest blaed fram

Ac Brand min fram Gaest

Giefan Ic Scield aet Lyra, Arya, ac Satyra.

Ac giefan heo laetan craeft beridan hie

Ongean feond

Ac heolstor an se.”

 

The words came to him easily and he uttered them with all of the last of his strength.  They were a benediction, a prayer, a wish.  Wish magic was a very powerful magic and he had once been a truly powerful Wizard.  He fell back against his pillows and smiled as he watched the figures in flight.  Slowly his gaze darkened and he felt only relief that this was the end.  With his final spell he had used the last of his strength to protect the future of the House of Malfoy.  He was content to die now, at long last.

 

There was a horrible wail of distress when Abraxas Malfoy breathed his last.  Dresden, his ever loyal and faithful House-Elf sobbed and wailed his distress at the tearing of his bond to his Master.

 

In the sky, flying on brooms the daughters of House Malfoy froze as they felt a wave of magic flow over them.  “What is this?” Satyra asked in a shaky voice.  She was afraid of what she felt.  It was as though the magic was a warm blanket smothering her.

 

“Grandpapa,” was Lyra’s whisper.  She recognized the magical signature.  Though it had been many years since she had been permitted to see him, she still remembered the feel of her grandsire’s magic.

 

“Father,” Lucius’s voice sounded tortured.  He could feel the wards of the Manor shift to his complete control.  Lucius feared what this meant. “Come girls,” he ordered and the girls followed him to the ground and dismounted from their brooms.  “To your rooms,” he told them.

 

Satyra looked ready to protest but Arya took hold of the youngest girl’s hand and dragged her away.  Lyra followed after them but she looked back once at her father and was sure to take in the details of his suddenly haggard appearance.  He was afraid and she knew it was because of her grandfather.

 

Lyra soon after followed her sisters and they went to the west wing where their rooms were housed.  She sat down in their joint parlor and stared out the window.  “Grandfather is dead,” she said the words softly as if tasting them, testing them out.

 

“You don’t know that,” Satyra argued.

 

“I do,” Lyra said gently, “And you do as well.”

 

“Don’t Lyra,” Arya told her.

 

“Shielding Satyra is not going to help her in this life that we must live,” Lyra reminded Arya.  “We are Malfoy’s.  Grandchildren of the Old Dragon and daughters of a Death Eater.  We are also one of the richest families in the Wizarding World.  There are those who would hate us for our wealth alone even as they would covet us for it, but add in Papa’s past mistakes and how Grandfather gained political enemies as he pushed forth the agendas he believed in and, well, obviously we cannot hide from truth.  It does us no good.”

 

Arya sighed, “You should have let father be the one to tell us.”

 

“I note that you do not argue with my other points,” Lyra pointed out.

 

“There is nothing to argue with,” Arya said.  “As uncle Severus has no doubt told you before ‘Your logic is sound’ though I wish you did not have reason to be so pessimistic.”

 

Lyra shook her head in the negative, “I am not being pessimistic.  I am being practical.  You saw how we were treated in Diagon Alley, how mother was treated,” she allowed a few moments for her two sisters to recall how the people they encountered treated them with disdain and an overt courtesy. It had been a very different experience than when they shopped with their mother in Paris or in Lyons, France.

 

“Point made,” Satyra was the one to say.  At Arya’s sharp look she shrugged.  “They were horrible in Diagon Alley.  It made me actually grateful that I have yet another year before I can go to school,” she admitted.  “In fact depending on how you two are treated, I may beg father to send me to Beauxbaton’s.”

 

Lyra didn’t know how to feel about the possibility of their youngest sister not going to the same school with them.  What if someone hurt Satyra at Beauxbaton’s?  She would not be there to protect the girl.

 

All of her thoughts about this was driven from her mind when Dresden, her grandfather’s House-Elf suddenly appeared in front of them. A quick examination of his face made her heart sink.  So she was right.  The Old Dragon was dead.

 

She looked away from the little Elf to stare out the window, trying to regain control of herself.  She felt as though her heart was shattering.  Tears were stinging her eyes and she felt as though a stone was in her throat choking her.

 

“The Old Dragon is dead,” Lyra whispered.

 

Dresden began to weep then.  “Yes, Mistress Lyra,” Dresden whimpered.  He was truly pitiful in his distress, and Lyra turned away from the window and before she knew what she was doing she had moved to stand before the little elf.  She sank to her knees before him and then took him into her arms. “There there, Drez,” she tried to console him but she knew that there would be no consoling him.  He would ache until he followed Abraxas.  Which brought forth the question of why he had not immediately followed his master.

 

“Dresden, were you ordered to tell us and then follow?” she asked kindly.

 

Dresden shook his head sadly.  “No, Dresden has been ordered to bond with the three Mistresses to give them more protection.  Master promised that when young Mistresses no longer needed Dresden’s support then he could join his master once more.”

 

Arya gasped in horror at the thought of such an order.  “Grandsire, what were you thinking?” she asked aloud knowing there would be no answer.  “Oh Dresden we are so sorry.  We would never have asked this of you.”

 

He nodded his head sadly but smiled slightly through his tears.  “Master was worried for his little Mistresses and he wanted them safe.  He did all he could to protect them.”

 

Lyra frowned then in thought.  “He died while we were flying didn’t he?” she asked the elf.  “He did something, some sort of spell of protection.”

 

“He did spell that would use up his remaining magic and strength and would use it to create a shield for his granddaughters,” Dresden informed her.

 

Lyra heard Satyra’s sob then and watched as Arya pulled the younger girl in to her side, trying to comfort Satyra with her closeness.  She watched the scene for a few moments before she looked back to Dresden.  “We did not deserve such a benevolent Grandsire,” she said the words with an ache in her voice.  They were formal words, ones that she knew her father would likewise be saying at the funeral, though he would say ‘Father’ instead of Grandsire.

 

Dresden gave her a watery smile.  “You three were lights of Master’s life,” he told them.  “He longed for you during the years of his final torment.”

 

This brought another sob from Satyra and Arya held her tight with tears rolling down her face as well.  Lyra moved then to her sisters and gently steered them to the sofa.  She sat herself upon it and then pulled Satyra to her left side and Arya to her right.  She held both of her sisters to her as they cried.  Though tears stung her eyes she did not let them fall.  She was determined to stay strong or Arya and Satyra as they wept.

 

She was not sure how long they remained thus, cuddling on the sofa with Lyra running a hand up and down Satyra’s back and her other hand combing through Arya’s hair, the ways that soothed each girl best.  She only knew that nighttime had long since fallen when the door to their sitting room opened and she looked up to see that Lucius Malfoy stood in the doorway.  Her gray eyes examined her father and she felt an ache settle inside chest.  She wanted to go to him and hug him, comfort him, but to do so would mean unsettling Satyra and Arya whom had fallen into exhausted slumber.

 

“The Old Dragon is dead,” Lyra whispered to Lucius and she saw him flinch.

 

“Yes,” he said simply.  “The house-elves informed you.”

 

She inclined her head.  He had made it a statement rather than a question and she acknowledged it as such.  “They are sleeping now,” she said meaning her sisters.  “They were quite upset of course.  Better that they get the deepest mourning over with before the funeral rites.”

 

Lucius nodded, his ice-blue eyes going cold.  “Yes, that would be best.  Too many people will be milling about the Manor that day.”

 

She agreed with her father.  Her Grandsire’s funeral would bring a huge crowd.  Most of them will not be sincere mourners.  They will be business opponents and political opponents who will be all too thrilled to see the Old Dragon put into his tomb.

 

“I am sorry, Father,” Lyra said softly to Lucius.  “I," she checked the tremor in her voice, "it hurts to have lost him.”

 

Lucius came forward then and he gently moved Satyra until he could pick the girl up into his arms.  He carried her to her from the room.  Lyra surmised he was taking the girl to her bed.  He returned a few moments later and did the same with Arya.  Lyra remained where she was, waiting for her father’s return.

 

Lucius sat down beside her when he returned and did something he rarely did, he pulled her to him and cradled her close.  She rested her head on his chest and breathed in the soothing scent of her father.  Starch shirts, expensive cologne, and some sort of earthy spice that might have been his after shave.  She felt his arm curve around her to hold her close and that was all it took for her breath to hitch and then the tears began to fall.

 

“Please, don’t leave us like he did,” she whimpered into his shirt as she began to cry.

 

“Shh Lyra,” he soothed her.  His other hand came up to cradle her face, holding her close.  He rocked her as she released the torrent of grief within her.  She clung to him and let him be her salvation in the storm that seemed to be swirling around her.

 

She knew not how long it lasted, she only knew that when her sobs subsided she was exhausted.  As she began to drift into a sleepy doze her last thought was that her father had side-stepped making any promise that he would not leave them before they were ready to let him go.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Fnaest blaed fram  
> Ac Brand min fram Gaest  
> Giefan Ic Scield aet Lyra, Arya, ac Satyra.  
> Ac giefan heo laetan craeft beridan hie  
> Ongean feond  
> Ac heolstor an se.”
> 
> Rough Translation  
> "This breath of life  
> And the fire of my spirit  
> I imbue unto Lyra, Arya, and Satyra as a shield.  
> Let it surround them and give them strength  
> Against their enemies  
> And comfort in the darkness."
> 
> I really liked the idea of using Old English instead of Latin for Abraxas Malfoy's spell. I used a Old English translator online to achieve this task so if it is not quite right I am sorry. I am not an expert of Linguistics and Ancient Languages. I hope, my dear readers, that you know that I mean well.
> 
> Up next: The Epilogue of The Malfoy Curse. Also the Prologue and the First Chapter of the sequel, The Malfoy Defiance, shall be posted on the same day as the Epilogue. I do hope that anyone who has enjoyed this story will continue to read about Lyra and her sisters. I can say that the sequel has more continuity and less time leaps to it. Thank you for reading!


	14. Epilogue: The Grimoire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra Malfoy visits the Malfoy Mausoleum.

Epilogue: The Grimoire

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England

August 31, 1980

 

 

Lyra clutched the book tightly to her chest as she slipped from one shadow to the next.  It was late night and she should be sleeping.  In the morning she would have to awaken early and make the last of her preparations before going away to school.  Her first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry awaited her. Instead of sleeping like her twin sister was, she was sneaking about the Manor in the dark hours of the early morning.

 

She pulled open the door to the servant’s stairs and quickly rushed down them.  She had little to fear in this part of the house.  It was where the House-Elves were quartered and her father rarely came to this part of the house.  She was able to sneak through the kitchens and out the old side door from there.  She rushed past the kitchen herb garden and kept going until she was well out of sight of the great windows of the manor. 

 

At last she saw it shining white in the moonlight, the tomb of the Malfoy family.  It was a great pretty little Cathedral that almost rivaled the Manor in elegance of architecture. She only had to press her palm to the door to gain entry, the magical signature of all Malfoy’s unlocked the door.

 

She sighed in the darkness of the Cathedral and then she took the rose quartz from her pocket.  It was the size of her palm and she muttered a simple spell over it and then it began to glow with soft light.  It was a perfect nightlight and she had possessed it since she was a young child.  She then muttered the floating charm and the quartz hovered in the air.  Another charm whispered and the quartz began to follow her as she moved through the Cathedral.  Lyra did not stop until she had found the tomb of her Grandsire, Abraxas Malfoy. 

 

She stared at the pretty silver and gold swirls that lined the stone of his tomb.  She stared for several moments at the stone effigy that lay as though sleeping upon the marble slab.  It was carved of a fine white alabaster stone.  The man looked refined and handsome in expensive looking robes.  He was stylish, refined, and though he looked younger than she remembered him, she knew that the effigy was of a younger likeness of her grandfather. 

 

She allowed herself a moment to stare at the effigy and then she softly uttered the words that would create a hidden compartment in the alabaster book that the effigy seemed to clutch to his chest.  She then slowly looked at the book she had been clutching to her breast.  The Malfoy Family Grimoire had been given into her keeping the night of the funeral.  Dresden had brought it to her in secret and told her of Abraxas Malfoy’s wish that Lyra have the Grimoire and Lucius never possess it or knowledge of where it might be.  Though unsure of why her grandsire had wished to deprive Lucius of the Grimoire she agreed to honor his last wishes.

 

The Grimoire was far too dangerous for her to simply pack into her trunk and take with her to school.  Then she would run the risk of the likes of Albus Dumbledore noticing the book.  She had decided that it was best left in the keeping of her grandsire.  She gently placed the book in a black velvet cover and then she placed the book inside of the secret compartment that she had created.  Once the compartment was sealed she said softly “Please, look after it while I am in need of it.”  She said softly to the stone effigy of Abraxas Malfoy.

 

Then she turned and hurried away.  She needed to return to the Manor and needed to get to sleep.  It would be a busy morning and she would have the long train ride to Hogwarts.  She smiled thinking of the train ride.  The green-eyed boy that she had met in Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions would be there on the train.  She had promised she would look for him.  She was looking forward to talking with him once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this fic. The more in depth Sequel titled "The Malfoy Defiance" is now being posted. The Malfoy Defiance follows Lyra Malfoy in her trials and travails at Hogwarts.


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